Loyalty of the Tiefling
by JHMLYNDALE
Summary: The events of Mask of the Betrayer, but with the twist of Neeshka having managed to follow her harbour-boy… who is hers rather than Elanee's. Posted on my own site which I lost. Being posted here Wednesdays while I consider the much delayed sequel. Prologue, 25 chapters, Epilogue.
1. Authors Note

Author's Note and Disclaimer

This story is based on the Neverwinter Nights 2 expansion pack _Mask of the Betrayer_. The basic plotline, locations, and much of the NPC dialog are therefore the work of those that worked on that game. The idea for doing this story was sparked by a fan-made-modification of the Neverwinter Nights 2 Original Campaign that added a romance option, as originally planned by Obsidian Studios, for a male character with Neeshka. I wondered if there was a way for Neeshka to become involved and if this would provide a different perspective on events. The answer to the first seemed yes and the answer to the second seemed maybe. I hope that those of you who have not played the games enjoy this story and those of you that have played it feel that having Neeshka become involved _does_ provide a different enough perspective. In the original plotline for _Mask of the Betrayer_ the Red Wizardess Safiya would have been the romance option for a male character and there would have been the option to ally with Kaelyn the Dove in her Crusade. Neeshka removed both options for the two different reasons.

For those of you who have not played Neverwinter Nights 2 but have played pen-and-paper Dungeons & Dragons (edition 3.5) I will say that although people at the _The_ _Order of the Stick_ forums can be very snarky they are right there are significant differences. The three that occur would be time to cast a spell, material components for spells, and the number of levels a character would have. The first varies in D&D but is always one round, unless Quickened, in NWN 2. Material components are not normally required in NWN 2 as they are in D&D though some people have made modifications to make NWN 2 require that and some Dungeon Masters do drop the requirement from their D&D games. As to levels the NWN 2 original campaign _ends_ with the character at level 20 and _Mask of the Betrayer_ takes this to level 30 so by pen and paper standards these people will seem rather powerful…level 9 spells AND good with a sword?

And for those of you who have played Neverwinter Nights 2 you may notice a few places where someone picks up a weapon and starts swinging despite that they could not have actually done that in the game. Chalk that up to artistic licence, PnP rules where you can use things at a penalty, or that in real life someone can still pick something up and flail around with it even if they don't really know what they are doing. Whichever you prefer.

Of course the differences between NWN 2 and D&D are in some ways minor compared with between them and 'reality' as people are wounded rather than being completely fine until suffering 'critical existence failures' when they reach 0 hitpoints. Saying a spell "continues to do acid damage until the target makes a reflex save or for this many rounds" does seem to translate as "the acid continued to cling and burn at him until he finally managed to shake it off or it was spent" though. The visual effects of some spells did change rather between NWN 1 and NWN 2 and with two exceptions the translations of those, like the story, are based on the latter. One of those spells has also had its effects made like pen-and-paper so that "it does exactly what it says on the tin."

Some thanks go to a "Let's Play" run-through of NWN 2. The creator of that found the evidence of the planned confrontation between Sand and Qara that did not make it into the game and posted design sketches of Zhjave that showed how much prettier she was at that stage. They made her rather more leathery, in common with how they made the Githyanki, but did not change her outfit and this did not suit her as well. Made worse by her always appearing in that outfit rather than her appearance changing with what armour you gave her. That "Let's Play" also mentioned a quest they dropped from MotB where you would have been aiding the Veil Theatre with a new play based on your experiences in the Original Campaign.

Since I wanted Blake to return home sooner the timeline has been fudged so the second expansion pack _Storm of Zehir_, during which the Knight-Captain was still missing, took place at the same time as _Mask of the Betrayer_ rather than starting about a month after my estimate of the end of this. Blake could have spent that month (plus enough time for the events) travelling or, less tediously for him, found time flowed differently on a different plane and he'd "lost" those weeks. But some elements of _Storm of Zehir_ worked better, in my opinion, if it started more immediately after the Original Campaign and the only way those events affect this story is in the epilogue.

I would also like to say to be careful if you decide that rather than modifying a game fully you will add a character and play through making notes. If even those notes get to be one of the longest stories you have written then you might have been better off with the original idea. This story would have been even longer had I decided to have all the random fights as well as the plot-triggered ones. I suppose taking a page from sagas and epic poems where they just say "…and he slaughtered ten to his left and fifteen to his right as he charged towards his foe, and he did not think it too many…" would have minimised that though.

And finally… Blake is not an arsehole. He very easily got enough influence with a companion that she did not leave in the actual playing of the Original Campaign but I thought her leaving made more sense in story terms. And means that she is still alive for any future appearances.


	2. Prologue

**Prologue**

Blake Marsh swung the Sword of Gith, the metal of the blade passing harmlessly through the portal but the magic imbued into that metal reacting with and against it. This attack was finally enough; the portal vanished and took with it the tendril of dark energy that had been linking the King of Shadows to the Shadow Plane through it. Deprived of this support, driven back on his own intrinsic power, the King of Shadows staggered as he adjusted to the loss. The adventurers took this moment to gather their own breath and ensure they were surrounding their towering foe.

Neeshka quickly moved across to Blake's side, concern evident on her pretty face as she saw how weary her harbour-boy was. Blake saw this concern and made the effort to straighten and try to give her a reassuring smile. His beard and the cheekguards of his helmet hid his face a little, but at times like this he wished he had a full-face helm so he did not have to keep his expression confident. Especially since this was wasted effort as he did not think his smile would fool Neeshka even for an instant. Over the months since they'd first met, and through the adventures that had brought them here to this ancient Illefarn fortress, the bond between them had grown strong. It had been one of the worst moments of Blake's life when he'd realised that Neeshka had disappeared just after they'd teleported here.

However Tymorra had smiled on them with good fortune and victory and when they entered this great domed room and he saw Neeshka again Blake had thanked as many Gods and Goddesses as he could think of. He'd felt less thankful when he learned that while they were apart the corrupted mage Black Garius had been attempting a binding ritual on her through her Tiefling blood. The agony this had caused her made Blake regret he had been unable to honour Hoar, _The Doombringer_, with suitable retribution on Black Garius for this and his other crimes and been unable to kill him more slowly or more than once. However that regret faded to almost nothing compared with what he would have felt had Ilmater not blessed Neeshka with the endurance to resist and if he had been forced to kill her along with the two traitors.

It had actually been quite welcome having the chance to kill Bishop as the question with him had always been _when_ rather than _if_ he would betray them. His actions during the battle against the undead at Crossroad Keep were enough reason to have hunted him down so finding him here had saved that trouble. And it had been amusing to see his face when he tried to take control of the Golem the Gnome bard Grobnar had repaired, only to learn that even with Grobnar's trusting nature he'd judged Bishop well enough to install an override to the override after revealing those phrases.

What had been less welcome was having to kill the Elven Wizard Sand. At times it had been hard to tolerate the incessant arguing between him and the Sorceress Qara, her with her innate power and instinct, him with his meticulous study, and both of them without the willingness to control their scorn for the other. But despite the temptation to have them both removed from Crossroad Keep Blake had continued to try to play the peacemaker. Sand had earned some gratitude for his aid with the false murder accusations and very gradually, despite her impatience for the less talented, Qara had been becoming more willing to accept advice from Blake.

Those efforts had now been wasted; Blake had a great deal of respect for how powerful Qara was and had no problems believing the rumours he'd heard about when Sand had tried to confront, or at least speak to, her when she was alone. His scorn for her lack of control had turned to fear when she had wreathed herself in flames and incinerated the barrels whose remains Blake had seen the next day. It must have been a shock to find that what Sand had decried as major lapses had only appeared thus due to Qara's sheer strength making her minor slips seem more serious. But even with that demonstration of how much power she held within her slender frame it was still hard for Blake to understand why Sand had decided Qara was a greater threat than the King of Shadows.

If she ever learned the techniques to fully use her immense natural talent then Qara would be very formidable. Truly more formidable though than a creature of pure magic created by the combined efforts of the Archmages of ancient Illefarn? Sand had heard the tale of how they created a Guardian for their empire and how when magic failed and it turned to the shadow-weave to survive they feared it had been corrupted. How in this fear they attacked it and how it had defeated them despite all their skill and power and the aid of their ally the great Crystal Dragon Nolaloth. He'd also heard how Githyanki cities were ravaged by mere avatars of the King of Shadows and had seen that even the fraction of its power it had granted Black Garius had let him render an entire army of the Undead immune to sunlight. But Sand had still turned on them, had still decided allying with the King of Shadows to prevent Qara coming into her full potential was the lesser evil, and had now died for his mistake.

Wearily Blake dragged his mind back to the present as his instincts prompted him that the King of Shadows had recovered and adjusted. Without the link to the Shadow Plane he might now be vulnerable, but vulnerable was not the same as being an easy foe. His power was still immense and even if the Red Knight's blessing was upon their tactics there was still hard fighting to come. Glancing across past the King of Shadows he caught the eye of Khelgar Ironfist and tilted his head briefly to him. The Dwarf nodded and began shuffling to one side, understanding the subtle signal thanks to the rapport they'd built over the many battles they'd faced together.

Blake waved the Sword of Gith in front of him, letting what light there was glint off it and catch whatever the King of Shadows used for eyes. The blankly glowing spots beneath the bone helmet seemed to focus on him and on Neeshka who was determinedly and defiantly sticking to his side. Blake stumbled slightly and the motion of the Sword of Gith became less controlled, as if its weight was overwhelming his remaining strength and he had to fight to keep it in position. The rest of the King of Shadows face was as blank as his eyes but somehow that patch of darkness seemed to move into a predatory smile as it saw weakness.

The King of Shadows began to move. It was twice the height of a Fire Giant so one long stride would take it to Blake, but as whatever weight a creature of pure magic had shifted for this stride Blake also moved. Although he was grateful he'd found the Mithril Full Plate he was wearing, since this restricted his movements less than other metals would, with how heavy his arms felt as he moved them he still briefly wished he was not wearing quite so much armour. He had never been light on his feet like his beloved Neeshka though so he needed metal to take the blows he could not dodge and needed to use more power to overcome how this, especially his shield, interfered with his arcane skills.

Muttering the words of power Blake unleashed his last _Isaac's_ _Lesser Missile Storm_, arcane energy gathering a moment in front of him between his hands before the magical missiles curved away from him and back in at the King of Shadows. Each missile was not strong compared with his target's strength, even weakened the King of Shadows shrugged them off like a man being pelted with pebbles from several directions but, like that man, he was distracted by the attack.

"Hold _this_ ye bastard!" Khelgar roared, charging in from behind and swinging the Hammer of Ironfist into the side of one of the King of Shadows' knees.

There was not a crunch as the heirloom of his Dwarven clan slammed into its target, but that was only because the King of Shadows was a creature of magic. Rather than having bone and cartilage to be crushed by the blow what body it had was made of the stuff of the shadow-weave. It still reacted the same way to the blow though, the leg buckling beneath it and causing it to stagger in its stride.

Blake sprang forward with as much speed as he could muster after the lengthy battle. Even with the aid of his belt of strength, and having spent as much time on his martial as on his magical training, his full armour and tower shield seemed to drag him back. He'd learned from his beloved Neeshka though that subtlety could be worth more than brute force. Rather than strike square on instead he slashed the tip of the Sword of Gith across the calf of the King of Shadows' other leg. The King of Shadows fell as suddenly both legs hurt to stand on, swinging one massive hand at the retreating Blake.

The blow connected but Blake let his kite-shaped shield absorb the impact and let it propel him rather than resist. "Now," he called as he tottered back to sit down hard on his armoured behind with a grunt.

A fireball streaked across the room and into the King of Shadow's face as he tried to stand, followed closely by Eldritch Blasts that sliced into the arm he was trying to push himself up from the floor with. The shock and pain of the fireball and the pain and injury weakening his arm drove the King of Shadows back down and a peal of mocking laughter echoed around the curved walls. Though this mockery seemed not entirely directed at him.

"Getting old, getting slow," jibed Qara, glancing to her side, as she sent another fireball on its way.

"Idiot Child!" Ammon Jerro growled, the tattoos on his face glowing brighter with exertion, or anger, or both. "Look where you are aiming!"

"Disadvantage of being a Warlock," Qara replied in her typical condescending manner, sending a third fireball at the King of Shadows a moment after Ammon Jerro unleashed his second barrage of Eldritch Blasts. "You need to aim rather than having enough power."

A low noise escaped Ammon Jerro, but he did not give in to the temptation to demonstrate to Qara how much power he had. He had sacrificed reputation, home, and even family in his quest to destroy the King of Shadows so insults were not going to divert him now. Whether those insults would remain unavenged after the King of Shadows was defeated was another matter. Unlike that fool wizard Sand he needed no allies to kill this girl if he decided she was a threat as well as an irritant. He would use her in this battle and then decide whether poison, or a knife across her sleeping throat, or unwarranted mercy was the fate she deserved.

Arrows began to feather the King of Shadows as Grobnar saw an opening and brought his shortbow into play. These did not look as spectacular as the magic Qara and Ammon Jerro were continuing to hurl, but a skilled bowman, as Grobnar had become, could do a lot of damage in their unspectacular way. If nothing else, Blake mused, at least Grobnar using his bow meant he was not trying to play a tune on his Wenderkazoo, an instrument that was both invisible and sounded just like Grobnar humming.

Not to be left out Khelgar raised the Hammer of Ironfist and the electricity playing around it combined into a single bolt of lightning to link him and the King of Shadows. This would require the Hammer to be recharged, but as it recharged by being used to hit things this was no hardship as far as Khelgar was concerned. The King of Shadows convulsed, and then convulsed again as Blake regained his feet and chanted and cast a _Disintegrate_. His shadow-weave created body had no physical substance to tear apart but as this and the spell's magic from the weave met and consumed each other that almost seemed irrelevant to the pain it caused.

The King of Shadows appeared stunned but Blake was not sure how long this would last. It was likely some of the attacks had only worked because at its core the mind of the King of Shadows was still that of a man. A man would expect his knee to crumple when hammered and a man would flinch away from fire, so this was how the King of Shadows had reacted. Give him time to gather his wits though and he would heal, he would re-weave his shadow-weave body, and be only weakened rather than crippled.

"Finish this!" Blake called, staggering forward at top speed with a flourish of the Sword of Gith. Khelgar followed with the huge grin and seemingly inexhaustible energy any fight gave him. The Githzerai cleric Zhjave also moved in, as inscrutable as ever but ready to plunge her spear into this foe of her people. With a roar of rage the semi-prone King of Shadows swung again at Blake, but this roar became higher pitched as Blake let the Sword of Gith meet this swing and let the King of Shadows' own strength drive the edge of the blade through his hand.

Zhjave was the next to strike, flicking her spear forward into the King of Shadows' side, giving it a half twist in the wound, and then pulling it back before the shaft could be grabbed. Khelgar was less subtle and simply began hammering on the King of Shadows' spine like one of his clansmen would metal on an anvil. The King of Shadows twisted to try to reach- Khelgar but all that achieved was to move where the blows were landing from lower spine to where his kidneys would have been.

The Paladin Casavir and the Golem that Grobnar had imaginatively named "Construct" moved in together, divinely guided flesh and algorithm guided metal coordinated in their assault. The great blade that was one forearm of the Construct swung at the upper arm and shoulder of the King of Shadows while Casavir took advantage of the prone position of their foe to bring his hammer across into the King of Shadows' head. A slither of shadow-weave "flesh" peeled away from that upper arm while almost simultaneously there was a crunch as Casavir's hammer met the bone helmet and the latter visibly cracked, showing that though the King of Shadows was a creature of pure shadow magic that his accoutrements had some solidity.

Zhjave moved back in; she flicked her spear at the eyeholes of this helmet and caused the King of Shadows to reflexively flinch and try to protect his face. Its problem was what to protect it with. One arm was now badly wounded, first by the Sword of Gith and then the Construct, and the other arm was partially trapped where the King of Shadows had fallen back down onto it. The King of Shadows thrashed about as he tried to free his less wounded arm without using his other wounded limbs and tried to drive his smaller foes back with his flailing. He was incredibly tough but under their relentless assault this just made him die by smaller degrees.

Ammon Jerro had moved in with his own sword and joined in the Construct's attempts to, literally, whittle the King of Shadows down. Khelgar was continuing to hammer whatever part of the King of Shadows he could reach. Casavir was still concentrating on smashing the bone helmet, though it was doubtful there was a skull beneath it to also break the bone of. Grobnar had started singing encouragingly as it became impossible to use his bow. Qara meanwhile was just watching the others using physical force with a similar expression to a conceited aristocrat watching a ditch being dug, something they might concede needed to be done but not something they'd lower themselves to helping with.

Blake however was having problems; the Sword of Gith was incomplete and what shards they had found were held together by his will with only ghostly images of the missing pieces to join them. Years ago in the battle at West Harbour the Sword of Gith had shattered when Ammon Jerro used it to fight a mere avatar of the King of Shadows. One of the shards from it had sliced through Blake's mother and into him in her arms as she tried to protect her baby son and carry him away from the battle. It was doubly fortunate that Blake had been so young at the time. Fortunate for Ammon Jerro as Blake had no real memory of his mother, and so could only hate the Warlock for the evil he had done more recently, but fortunate also for the fight against the King of Shadows.

The shard had lodged within Blake and over the years since he was a baby, and as he had grown, a link had formed between him and it. As pieces of the same legendary sword, that of her who freed her people from the Illithid, the shards had maintained a link to each other. And with the ritual Zhjave had performed they had been able to use those links to let Blake's strength substitute for the missing pieces and allow the sword to be reformed. The cost though was the effort it took to maintain this, and the longer the battle went on, the more tired he became, the harder he hit the King of Shadows the more difficult this was.

Blake was not sure which deity he should thank that he had been able to continue to hold the blade together. He could thank Ilmater for endurance, Helm for helping him in his effort to protect those that this ancient creature threatened, Torm for helping him remember his duty and focus on it, there were many who could be aiding him. Finally though he saw his chance and staggered forward as the King of Shadows arched his back in his convulsing and exposed his belly, widening the gap between his belt and the other belts that criss-crossed his upper torso. The Sword of Gith struck home again, a long sweeping blow as Blake drew the strange multiple curves of its edge across the King of Shadows' "flesh". This would have disembowelled most creatures but instead of guts white light spilled out from the wound. Blake froze for a moment, surprised that beneath the skin of darkness there was still a core of light and the backlash through his link to the sword dazing him enough to pause in this surprise.

Suddenly he was flying backwards, cloth tearing as something yanked hard on his cloak and a last despairing blow from the King of Shadows passing close enough to him he felt the breeze. A firm shove between his shoulder blades helped him to stop falling and keep on his feet. Light erupted from the King of Shadows as his will finally faltered and his shadow-form tore itself apart and burst into nothingness. Blake blinked as this pure light dazzled him a little and then looked over his shoulder and saw an annoyed Tiefling.

"Think later harbour-boy," Neeshka chided him, smiling as her grin managed to break out again past the annoyance. Her sweetheart was far from being an absent minded professor like the Sage Aldanon but it did seem sometimes he did get too intellectually interested to pay attention to practical matters.

"Hrm," Blake replied, blinking a little more to clear his eyes and mind. There was a sudden grinding of stone around them and dust, and chunks of mortar, and even a few large stone blocks began to fall from the domed roof. Blake looked around with an irked expression at this further problem. "Think much later, run _now_," he agreed, then he looked around again. "Wait, where's Zhjave?"

"The Gith seems to have left your company with as much suddenness as she joined it," Ammon Jerro replied impatiently. "No matter, _her_ choice."

Several rejoinders about showing concern for comrades came to Blake's mind but all were stifled by the fact that Zhjave had shown no concern for the rest of them by making her own independent escape. Instead he simply nodded and started moving towards the single exit. As they started upwards Blake glanced at Neeshka with a frown of concern.

"Problems, harbour-boy?" Neeshka asked, one eyebrow climbing towards a delicate horn.

Blake decided to not admit his concern was for her after what she had endured and instead pretended to be worried about the wider situation. "We could be in trouble," Blake said to her, and to the others who were listening, "our way here included entering patches of black mist that teleported us to another patch and those might have vanished with the King of Shadows. We may need another route."

"I might have missed that thanks to Black Garius," Neeshka replied, wincing in memory as she remembered the torture he'd put her through while the others were making their way through the fortress, "but I do remember that where we arrived was well inside this place."

"True enough," Blake admitted before adding, "as much as you disliked her Elanee would come in very useful right now, she'd be able to sense where stone ended and soil or air began."

"It was her choice to leave us at the Circle of the Mere," Neeshka said reasonably, before muttering with more venom, "_and_ it took her long enough to get the hint and _go_."

Blake spared Neeshka another glance as they reached the upper floor, where they had destroyed the last Shadow Reavers before Black Garius himself. Elanee's departure was more complex than that. It had been obvious to Blake after they had freed Elder Naevan that Elanee was torn between her duty as a Druid, and to that Elder, and her desire to continue helping them as she had been. He knew he would not win any discussion involving Elanee with Neeshka however, and escape was more important, for now anyway. As Blake moved towards the single exit in this room and looked around for inspiration Grobnar tried to look as if he had not been making mental notes of the exchange for a song or saga.

"Besides," Neeshka continued, "you've got me!"

"And _very_ grateful I am for that, but…"

"Buried tombs and labyrinths? Needing to be able to find your way in and out as well as avoid the traps inside?"

"Ah," Blake grinned slowly, "sounds like something someone with a pretty tail would know how to do."

"Better believe it," Neeshka grinned back as she stooped and grabbed a handful of dust from the floor. Releasing it gradually she nodded and then continued. "Draught seems to be in that direction, so we know where the air is going."

"Lead on then," Blake said, hearing some ominous groans from the walls around them, "I think that dust used to be mortar until a few minutes ago."

Swiftly they moved through the parts of the fortress that aside from Neeshka they had already seen. As Blake expected the black mist was no longer there, but thankfully neither were the undead that had slowed their progress before. Whether they had fled the collapsing fortress or been destroyed he did not know, but was willing to wait to find out until after they had made their escape and, hopefully, had a chance for a meal and some sleep. Soon they were into narrower corridors and Blake was feeling a little lost as Neeshka continued on, unhesitatingly leading them down one cross-corridor or another or choosing which corridor out of the occasional hall to take.

Finally Neeshka did pause though, her tail and head twitching from side to side as she looked either way down a T-Junction. Blake took the time to catch his breath as he had always had trouble keeping up with Neeshka. That the rest of the group, except Construct, seemed equally winded was some consolation. Khelgar in particular seemed grateful for the stop as Dwarven legs were not meant for long distance running and his bald head had developed quite the coat of dust stuck to the sweat on it. Seeing that Blake had noticed this gratitude though Khelgar straightened up.

"Come on Fiendling!" Khelgar prompted, pretending he'd not be thankful if she took a few minutes more over the choice. "Which way now?"

"We want to go straight on," Neeshka replied, too deep in thought to take offence, "but we only have left or right…" With that she bolted away, sprinting at top speed to the left. Blake hesitated a moment in shock before starting after her. "Back soon!" Neeshka called over her shoulder. "Just going to take a look."

Almost as she said that though the floor moved like the deck of a ship, rising and falling and corridor arches fracturing as they flexed. Part of Blake wondered how much of the lower levels of the fortress had just collapsed in on themselves but most of his attention was one arch. Its stones ground past each other out of position and before Blake could act or even shout a warning one block popped free and the arch and the ceiling it supported crashed down. Dust swirled back down the corridor towards them from the fallen section and past the staring Blake.

"It's okay lad," Khelgar said reassuringly, "she was well clear, and if it didn't collapse towards us it likely didn't towards her." Blake looked unconvinced so Khelgar continued. "Trust me," he added, "I may be more concerned with fighting than crafting, but I did grow up in underground holds and was taught and saw the dangers."

Blake nodded and then deliberately dragged his eyes away from the collapse. He had a responsibility to the others and Neeshka could move even faster now she was alone. "Looks like we only have one way to go."

"Perhaps not," Grobnar commented, "I could be mistaken, often I am, but the thought occurs that we can see a similar effect to that which…"

"Grobnar," Blake interrupted.

"Oh! Was I babbling again, I must apologise…but what I was going to say is that the drifting dust seems to be moving towards this wall? So there must be a crack in the wall and a space beyond it, perhaps a parallel corridor that would take us left."

"Good thinking, and well spotted."

"Thank you!" Grobnar smiled. "Construct, forward!"

"Wait!" Blake said, but too late.

Obedient to a fault, as was its nature, the Construct obeyed and smashed itself into the wall. Illefarn built Golem met Illefarn built wall and the former won as stone and brick and mortar crumbled and the Construct kept on going rather than being stopped. Blake glanced up at the ceiling, now lacking the support of the section of wall that had been reduced to rubble, and saw it already beginning to sag slightly.

"Everyone through", Blake ordered, "before we have another collapse."

"Another collapse, thanks to the Gnome," Ammon Jerro complained.

Grobnar ignored that complaint; he was already back at the Construct's side. The next wall, the far side of the corridor, had proved sturdier and, despite Grobnar's encouragement, was resisting the Construct's efforts to pull its blade from it. It looked to Blake as if the Construct had tripped and embedded its blade to almost its entire length while falling to one knee. Blake glanced up again as more dust fell from the ceiling and then looked back at Grobnar.

"We need to go."

"But Construct!"

"Is tough," Blake replied, "we can come back and dig it out to rebuild it, but not if we get buried as well."

"I don't like that idea," Grobnar mused, moving slightly down the corridor away from the Construct, "but…"

There was a crack of fracturing stone and Blake lunged to grab Grobnar and drag him out of harm, but Grobnar's reactions were even quicker. He flung himself across the kneeling form of the Construct, shielding seven foot of ancient magic metal with his own Gnome flesh. Blake stumbled forward half a step as he automatically tried to compensate for Grobnar's motion, and then stumbled even more as a rock thumped into the back of his helmet. Strong arms wrapped themselves around Blake's waist from behind and he found himself almost lifted off his feet as Khelgar picked him up like a barrel, leaning and walking backwards a few steps to get them clear. More rocks and then the entire ceiling over them dropped on Grobnar and the Construct and buried them.

Blake wobbled as Khelgar let his feet come back onto the floor, whether he was more stunned by Grobnar's actions and sudden death or the rock to the head he wasn't sure. For a second he looked at the burial before shaking his head. "Guh," Blake said vaguely, nodding to himself as he thought, "Them, dead? Yes, them dead…run not dig. Yes, run not dig."

"Aye lad," Khelgar replied, dragging Blake into motion, "run, not dig."

The others had been waiting for them further down the corridor, in the relative safety beneath one of the arches. Ammon Jerro looked as impatient as always and annoyed that they had wasted time on Grobnar. Conversely Casavir seemed calmly approving and glad that his faith in Blake's good nature was not misplaced. Qara however was looking bored, as if she was more concerned with having had to wait those seconds than with the danger or that Grobnar had died. As Khelgar continued to drag Blake along the ceiling sagged again and cracks appeared both sides of the arch.

"That does nay look good," Khelgar muttered. "We seem tae have drawn the attention of Beshaba rather than Tymorra the way our luck is going now."

"Tell us something we don't know," Qara sneered, the situation not affecting her manners.

"Do you know it looks like that arch is all that is holding this entire section of roof up?"

For a moment fear entered Qara's eyes and she looked worried, glancing at how far the cracks reached before she managed to reassume her normal disdainful expression. "Of… of course I knew that!"

Khelgar chucked to himself as he helped Blake stagger past the arch and Qara moved quite hastily on down the corridor. Ammon Jerro stayed closer; his attitude conveying that now his work was complete and the King of Shadows defeated that whether they survived or not was unimportant. They continued on several steps before Khelgar realised there were only the three of them, plus Qara, moving down the corridor. Turning to look back Khelgar also turned Blake around.

"Wha…" Blake said, looking at Casavir, "Wha' doing?"

"Aye, come on!" Khelgar called.

"If this arch is all that prevents a collapse," Casavir replied, one arm bending slightly before he rebraced himself, "then we need to prevent its collapse."

"Don't be daft," Khelgar replied, seeing the strain already starting to tell on Casavir as he struggled to keep the arch stones sliding any further out of position. "If you wait any longer then even if you run you'll never get clear."

"Yes," Casavir replied in his deep calm voice. "I know… So please, don't waste this. Go."

Khelgar nodded in understanding and respect. "Tyr go with ye then."

Whether Casavir's strength gave out or whether he simply let go once he saw the others had reached safety was not clear, even to Ammon Jerro who had been watching rather than staggering like Blake, supporting Blake like Khelgar, or looking impatiently onwards like Qara. All that could be said was that as soon as Blake and Khelgar were clear and had passed beneath another arch into a section that was still sturdy the entire corridor behind them collapsed from where Grobnar was already buried, past Casavir, and almost to their heels.

"This…bad," Blake commented, looking slack jawed at the fallen ceiling, "no friend get killed by King of Shadows, but then friends get killed by squish."

Urging Blake back into motion they quite soon reached a round hall where several corridors merged. More important some of those corridors were on the floor above, their entrances coming out onto a balcony that encircled the hall. Unfortunately the balcony had already partially collapsed with how the fortress had been shaking and the only surviving stairs up also showed signs of threatening collapse. As Khelgar steadied Blake, and peered down the corridor from which Neeshka might have approached, Qara looked at the stairs and then impulsively gathered her magic. A great wave of fire erupted from Qara and played over the stairs that began to glow cherry red after only a moment. The stairs sagged as their stone softened and their weight squashed the stones together like a mass of jellied sweets that had been sat upon. It was an impressive display of arcane might but only a brief one as Qara suddenly sagged and crumpled, exhausted, to the floor.

"Hrm," complained Ammon Jerro, looking at the stairs and making no move to check on Qara, "and now we are delayed by however long it takes her to recover, or for the stairs to cool, or both."

Khelgar spared Ammon Jerro a sideways look as he sat Blake down, propped up against some rocks well away from the heat radiating from the stairs, and then went to also move Qara to safety. She was quite awkward to move as although she didn't weigh much she was rather long in the limbs compared with him. "Seems a good delay," Khelgar finally said, satisfied that Blake and Qara were comfortable, "since we have nay seen any stairs for so long."

"Oh yes," Ammon Jerro replied sarcastically, "a very good delay indeed. Of course if Zhjave were still here then she might be able to clear our leader's clouded mind, take advantage that we are not moving for now. Or use her healing powers to help Qara recover faster. Or she might even have had some prayers prepared that would let us move over hotter rocks."

"Aye," nodded Khelgar, "I remember she did be able to protect us against Dragon Fire, so that last at least is true. But she buggered off."

"Which is no surprise," Ammon Jerro snarled, "she had a safe exit with her ability to plane shift and once she had used us to destroy the King of Shadows, destroy that foe of her people, she had no more use for us."

"Not… not got," Blake frowned, trying to follow the conversation and fixing on one thing, "not got enough spells against fire. Cannot protect. Maybe can speed cooling, got some icy spells, but still seeing double."

"Just relax," Khelgar reassured him, "but drink this first."

Blake took the bottle without curiosity over the contents and swigged back the potion before his eyes widened as if something as hot as the rocks of the stairs had been introduced somewhere he would rather not have such a thing. For a moment he sat bolt upright staring at nothing, and then he collapsed back against the rocks. Khelgar smiled and shook his head before looking back at Ammon Jerro.

"Old Dwarven recipe."

"You _do_ realise he is not a Dwarf," Ammon Jerro retorted.

"Aye, but he's near as tough and even most Dwarves pass out. Not me of course, but most."

Ammon Jerro just nodded rather than dispute Khelgar's disclaimer and started looking around the room. A few minutes passed and there was a muted rumble from somewhere. Dust puffed from one of the corridor entrances, showing which of them had just suffered a collapse, and Ammon Jerro nodded sourly at this. "It would seem our options are becoming more limited the longer we wait," he observed. "At this room seems stable for now as somewhere to wait."

"Could be one of the oldest parts of the place," Khelgar supplied, looking round. "Walls are very thick, might be they dug this out as a shaft, dug corridors out from it, and then put the roof on and filled in the rest of the hole…or just let the mere mud flow back in on top."

"Indeed," Ammon Jerro replied, trying to sound as if this had been blindingly obvious to him. Then he paused, and tilted his head, as his Eldritch energy enhanced ears caught something. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Khelgar said, straightening from where he was crouching by Blake and Qara and moving one hand to the Hammer of Ironfist.

"Hear those!" Ammon Jerro growled as a monstrous form emerged from a corridor and onto the floor of the hall. He concentrated and gathered some power to shape and unleash and slice into this new foe.

"For Clangeddin and Ironfist!" Khelgar roared, happy to see something to hit and charging as he pulled his hammer from his belt-loop.

Ammon Jerro hesitated; Khelgar was in the way now and though he didn't care about injuring the Dwarf, and it would be his own fault, it would be a waste of power to hit him rather than the Gargoyle. The Gargoyle hesitated as it looked at Ammon Jerro and then the swiftly approaching Dwarf. Khelgar though didn't hesitate and as the Gargoyle retreated back into the shadows of the corridor Khelgar followed without breaking stride for an instant.

"Come back you damn _fool_!" Ammon Jerro snarled, trotting across to where he could look down the corridor.

Khelgar was already out of sight, though Ammon Jerro could hear the sound of happy Dwarf swearing echoing back from where Khelgar was trying to encourage the Gargoyle to stand and fight. Ammon Jerro took a few more steps and his expression soured even more as he saw the dark shadow of the mouth of a cross-corridor not far away. Whether Khelgar had kept straight on or turned Ammon Jerro could not tell. A tracker might have been able to read how the dust had been disturbed, but they had enjoyed the pleasure of killing Bishop and he'd been their only one of those.

Ammon Jerro glanced back towards where the unconscious Qara and Blake lay. It was tempting to bring some rocks down on the impudent Sorceress' head. Nothing in her arcane skills would protect her against having her skull split but, as clumsy as the armour he wore was, Blake's helmet had already saved him from that fate once. A few rocks scattered over them would be far more fatal for her than him and the Dwarf was not smart enough to realise it would have been no accident. With a growl Ammon Jerro put aside the pleasing image of a dead Qara, her insults repaid, and continued in pursuit instead.

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Blake had woken with his head pounding as if it was the morning after a party with a God of Alcohol, but between those waves of pain his thoughts seemed to be coming clearer despite how the room spun and blurred around him as he tried to sit up to look around more. If Khelgar had been there he'd have told Blake this, and your stomach threatening to show you its contents again, was normal. The longer you slept after taking that potion the better you felt on waking and Blake had barely slept at all. After blinking several times to attempt to clear his sight Blake tried to look around the room without moving his head too much. There beside him was Qara, still unconscious, and there peering out of a corridor was some sort of Gargoyle.

As carefully as Blake tried to move he again nearly passed out, and the groan this produced, though soft, seemed to reach the ears of the Gargoyle. It turned and looked towards where this had come from and locked eyes with Blake. As the Gargoyle started towards him Blake decided there was perhaps time for one spell and that he doubted he'd be able to concentrate long enough to cast more than one anyway, so this had to count.

_'I'm sorry Neeshka,'_ he thought, accepting he was about to die and leave her, and then he chose his spell. Qara was around the corner of the pile of stones they were leaning against so there was a chance the Gargoyle had not seen her. Thankful that learning to not let armour affect his spells had meant learning to not have to move his hands as much Blake made subtle gestures with one hand around that corner as he tried to speak softly but clearly and without vomiting. Hoping the Gargoyle could not see his gesturing or Qara, or hear those arcane words, Blake cast a _Greater Invisibility_ on the unconscious Sorceress.

The Gargoyle reached Blake and stood looking down at him. Blake glared with as much defiance as he could muster and waited for the attack. He wished he could gather enough strength to shift position and draw his dagger. With how he was lying and sitting the stones supporting his back were in the way of this and the weight of his shield over the left side of his body was enough, with his armour, to keep him pinned down. The Gargoyle seemed unusually apprehensive though as it hesitated rather than striking with the bloodlust of its kind's reputation.

Finally it moved and Blake swung his arm back from where he'd left it after casting the spell. This punch was even feebler than he'd feared and the Gargoyle ignored it as its taloned hands closed on him. To Blake's surprise rather than tearing at his face inside his helmet or these talons trying to find gaps between plates or push through chainmail links the Gargoyle just picked him up. Though this was quite gently done blackness crowded in from the corners of Blake's vision as this movement overwhelmed his efforts to remain conscious. The last thing he felt was as slight tug as his cloak snagged and the Gargoyle finished the job Neeshka had started of tearing it free.

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Ammon Jerro cursed as he re-entered the hall, saw the retreating Gargoyle, and saw what it was cradling in its arms. He'd been gone no more than a few dozen seconds and _this_ had happened. Glancing to where Qara had been lying Ammon Jerro saw nothing and felt a grim satisfaction that whatever had taken her was already out of sight and so impossible to pursue. With luck the girl was dead and if he was ever asked he would say that, as he had been tempted to arrange, her skull had been split. Blake though had earned some minor effort to save him with his actions against the King of Shadows and his friendship to Ammon's granddaughter Shandra. If she had been willing to sacrifice her life to save Blake then Ammon felt he should at least make a small attempt. Drawing his sword and preparing his Eldritch powers he continued through the hall and after the Gargoyle, his tattoos glowing like a beacon in the dark.

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Cautiously Neeshka slithered through the gap between some fallen debris and the ceiling the incomplete collapse of the corridor above had left. She had been making good progress but had needed to circle around quite widely to get back on what felt like the right route. So it had been a surprise to hear Khelgar bellowing and realise this was coming from behind her as she'd been trying to try to catch up with the others rather than to get ahead of them. Sliding down the other side of the fallen debris and regaining her feet Neeshka hurried on. She almost instinctively kept her footsteps from making all but the slightest sound and this quietness let her hear heavier footsteps from ahead. Neeshka pressed herself further into the shadows as she approached the corridor junction and peered into the darkness ahead.

She would have done this anyway, but she could tell these footsteps were the slapping of heavy bare feet rather than the thudding of boot heels and she knew none of her friends were barefoot or weighed that much. A winged figure hurried across where the corridors crossed and then out of sight. Even that brief glimpse had looked ominous to Neeshka so she was not sure whether to follow and hope it would lead her to the others or not. The decision became easier though as another form crossed the same intersection, again little more than a silhouette but with a familiar pattern of light decorating it.

Neeshka felt her eyes narrow as she thought. Was the warlock to be trusted? He'd worked against them for a long time before they realised that despite the murders he'd committed and the confused stories from decades ago he was _fighting_ the King of Shadows rather than _being_ the King of Shadows. In his struggle against that foe he had made pacts with Infernals and had bound other Demons and Devils to his service. He could easily have abandoned the others and now be following a servant he had summoned to lead him out of here. Something about the way he and the winged figure had moved though suggested Ammon Jerro was chasing the other rather than simply following. Almost silently Neeshka slipped around the corner and down the corridor after them, ready to give Ammon Jerro either help or a blade in the guts depending on whether he had deserted her harbour-boy.

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Back at the round hall Khelgar plodded in, a little peeved that Ammon Jerro had not helped him in the chase. He'd not been moving that fast and going around that many corners had he? This slight self-examination ended as Khelgar realised both Ammon Jerro and Blake were gone, and the latter should still be sleeping and would not have left Qara behind if he had woken prematurely. Khelgar moved across to Qara who was stirring and, unknown to him, had only just become visible again. Stooping Khelgar picked her up again and started towards the stairs, hoping they had cooled enough. She shifted position in his arms and made a small noise before speaking.

"Watch…"

"Watch?" asked Khelgar, bringing one ear closer to her lips.

"Watch where you put your hands," Qara complained weakly, "or you'll find your beard burned off."

Khelgar chuckled for a moment, making Qara frown at him for being amused rather than scared, before replying. "Glad ye're feeling back to your normal self."

Of course the problem was, Khelgar thought as he continued to and up the stairs, that Ammon Jerro might also be back to his normal self. Back to being an evil bastard that would happily have double-crossed them. Khelgar vowed that he was going to get out of here and then he was going to remind Lord Nasher how much was owed and was going to get as many trackers and scouts and scrying-mages as he needed to find Blake. With that determination in his heart, and Qara in his arms, Khelgar plodded on.

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Ammon Jerro cursed as he saw a second Gargoyle had joined the one he was chasing. If the Dwarf was going to be so stupid as fall for a diversion and go chasing off the least he could do was keep up with what he was chasing. There was a slight shimmer ahead of the Gargoyles and Ammon Jerro recognised it as a portal. Eldritch energy leapt from his hand and into the back and wings of one Gargoyle, staggering but not felling it. This did at least show Ammon Jerro he had aimed for the wrong Gargoyle as it had grabbed at the wall to keep on its feet, something the other with its burden of Blake would not be able to do.

He was catching them and soon would be close enough to not need to shape his Eldritch Blast into a spear for extra range. Instead he could shape it into a chain that would jump between and stagger both Gargoyles at once. Then he could do this again and again and drive them to the floor. But Ammon Jerro snarled as he saw that soon was not soon enough as the Gargoyles shimmered and passed through the portal. This could be set to close the moment they were through so he plunged through after them.

Around him the world twisted and changed. He'd often used portals so this was not an unfamiliar experience, but before he could recover from the momentary disorientation he was already under attack. The flesh of his chest seemed to writhe like maggots as a _Disintegrate _struck him and the magic tried to tear him apart into dust. He was tough enough to resist but the effort still drained him and then magical missiles pelted him as his opponent followed up with a _Greater Missile Storm_. Even this extra attack was not enough to stop Ammon Jerro, but it was more than enough to drive him deeper into rage. Gathering his own power he glared at the red-robed woman moving back behind her Gnoll bodyguards and snarled as he recognised her.

"_You_! What business have you with this man?" Ammon demanded, gesturing towards where the two Gargoyles had retreated.

"That business would be… none of _your_ business."

With that the Gnolls attacked and Ammon Jerro realised there had been others flanking the portal as well. The axe swinging in from ahead of him was easy enough to sidestep, and his own sword drove another Gnoll back as it had to parry, but then a hammer slammed into his back. Ammon Jerro felt a rib break, a feeling he had learned to recognise during the tortures he had suffered on the lower planes, and fell forward onto one knee. The pain was irrelevant to him but before he could regain his feet another _Disintegrate _struck and to his annoyance Ammon Jerro found the ground rushing up to meet him.

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Neeshka slipped through the portal just as Ammon Jerro made one feeble effort to push himself up onto his hands before collapsing back unconscious into the dirt. She could see her harbour-boy but she also knew how close she had been behind Ammon Jerro. He had not been far down the corridor when he vanished into the portal and she had only paused very briefly to use the Ring of Invisibility those Fey had given her harbour-boy, and he'd given her, to aid her own skills at remaining unseen. It was a shock how swiftly Ammon Jerro had been defeated, but at least their victory had distracted them and she wasn't unhappy to see him with his face in the mud. Neeshka moved away from the portal and around towards the Gargoyles, just in time to avoid being stepped on as a third Gargoyle came through.

The red-robed woman shifted her attention to Blake as the portal behind her vanished with the arrival of the Gargoyle that had provided the distraction. Neeshka had to restrain a hiss of breath from escaping between her teeth as even in the dark of twilight she recognised the robes and the bald tattooed head and realised she was facing a Red Wizard of Thay. The reputation of those wizards, plus the three Gargoyles standing there, and the Gnolls shuffling around, and how quickly Ammon Jerro had fallen suggested that even if Tymorra blessed her with luck and skill she'd not bless her with victory. Not if she had to fight alone at least and it did not look like either of the men were going to wake up any time soon.

"Hrhuuh, finish him Headmistress?" one Gnoll finally asked, waving one paw towards Ammon Jerro, as the Red Wizard continued to look at Blake.

"No," the Red Wizard said with a smile that Neeshka yearned to remove with her rapier. "The warlock may yet have a use, better to sacrifice him than someone more valuable." The Red Wizard spent a moment contemplating the unconscious Blake before continuing to speak. "Whether you like it or not _you_ will also play your part. We shall give you no choices so everything you do will advance my plans and work towards freeing my love. First though we shall need to prepare you."

Neeshka did not like the sound of this and not just because that Red Wizard sounded so smug about her plans. One of the things she found most annoying about Blake, and one of the things she most dearly loved about him, was his willingness to help people. If this Red Wizard knew enough about him to have chosen him for her plans then she also knew she could have just asked. It could simply be that she was as arrogant as she looked and sounded and asking rather than taking had never occurred to her. Or it could be her plans were evil enough she had known Blake would refuse despite the gratitude opening a portal to let them escape the collapsing fortress would have earned.

"You," the Red Wizard ordered, pointing at a Gnoll, "and the rest of you. Take the warlock to the Academy."

"Yes Headmistress," the Gnoll replied, picking Ammon Jerro up without much gentleness.

Neeshka hesitated a moment as the Gnolls started away and her enemies split up. If she followed the Gnolls then she might be able to ambush them and if she could revive Ammon Jerro she'd have more chance against a Red Wizard and three Gargoyles. If she followed the Gnolls though she would lose sight of her harbour-boy. Cautiously Neeshka moved, making sure she didn't kick up any dust with her invisible footsteps, trying to keep everyone in sight and see how far this Academy was. If it was too close by there would be no chance of an ambush, but…wait, no!

Too late Neeshka realised the Red Wizard was making arcane gestures and another portal was shimmering into existence. Neeshka had barely started moving back when the Red Wizard and her Gargoyles stepped into the portal. Despair overwhelmed caution and Neeshka started almost running, not caring about stealth, but the portal dwindled behind the group almost the instant they entered. It took most of Neeshka's willpower to keep her cursing inaudible and for a minute all she could do was stare at where the portal had been.

A hard murderous look came in her eyes and Neeshka turned and padded after the Gnolls as silently as a cat chasing those dogs. Her lips, absent their normal grin, thinned further as she saw how close the Academy was. The Gnolls were already passing through what looked like the first of a series of gates set in high walls. Neeshka looked up at the hills overlooking these walls and then nodded slightly to herself. Silently Neeshka crept up onto the ridgeline to see if the Red Wizards had been stupid enough to build walls like that and not allow for them being bypassed.

They had not been that stupid, they had taken precautions, but the alarms and traps they had set were as obvious to Neeshka as if they were glowing in the dark. It still took her a moment or two to disable or move around each one however and it took a while to study the Academy buildings for vulnerable windows or doors. By the time Neeshka was creeping back to where the portal had been hours had passed and she was becoming worried the Headmistress might have returned during one of the short times Neeshka had been out of sight of the road.

Another bout of cursing almost escaped Neeshka as she reached where she could look down at where they had arrived. The portal was just shimmering back out of existence, the Red Wizard was a bare stride or two past it, and she was alone. Blake was not with her, so he was missing. The Gargoyles were not with her, so she'd have not had their protection if Neeshka had returned a few minutes sooner and been in a better position to pounce. Neeshka slid and clambered down the hill as fast as she could without revealing her presence but the Red Wizard was also hurrying. Before Neeshka was even halfway down the Headmistress was already around the corner and in sight of the Gnolls on the guard towers.

Neeshka paused a moment and then reversed her steps, first to the top of the hill and then back across to the Academy. Having gone that way twice, there and back, the third trip through and around the alarms and traps went a lot quicker so she was in sight of the Academy doors when the Red Wizard, with the escort of Gnolls she had gained on the short journey, entered the building. Neeshka thought and then looked at the tower jutting upwards into the night sky. They had called that Wizard "headmistress" and she'd probably want to look down on people physically as well as in all other ways. With a slight sigh Neeshka resigned herself to a long climb, glad that at least she was still carrying her wall scaling tools.

By the time she approached the top of the tower her muscles were really beginning to ache. There had been few buildings in Neverwinter this height, maybe none save the castle itself, so she had underestimated how hard it would be. If a light had not appeared in a window above her as she screwed yet another spike into the gap between two stone blocks Neeshka knew she might even have given up. Seeing that light and having it to aim for had helped a lot. Neeshka eased herself up the last few feet and could hear raised voices from within the room. Carefully she peered around the corner of the window frame and saw she was right, that light was coming from the room in which her prey was.

The Headmistress was not alone though. There was a second strikingly similar looking, though far younger, Red Wizard in the room with her who was protesting about how much work she had to do at the Academy while a trio of misshapen little things flapped around. Finally the Headmistress jerked one hand up in a silencing gesture and the other Red Wizard's flow of words shuddered to a stop.

"You are my daughter," the Headmistress said simply. "The only one I can trust with this. I know how busy you are, both as your Headmistress and as your mother, so I ask you to trust my judgement when I say this task is more important than your duties here."

The younger Red wizard nodded, reluctantly and slowly. "So what is it I have to do in this 'absence of a few days' then?"

"There…there will be a man," replied her mother, rather hesitantly, "he might be angry, he will be wounded, and you are to help him. You are to take him to Mulsantir and a woman called Lienna."

"Mulsantir? They hate Red Wizards there, what are you not telling me mother?"

"You will have a disguise, and I am not telling you a great many things. The less you know the more honest you can be when telling this man you do not know the answers to the questions he will have. Lienna will explain more to both of you, but this will be after you have had the journey to Mulsantir to convince him of your trustworthiness."

"I dislike being kept ignorant," the younger Red Wizard said flatly, "but I will trust your judgement in this as well."

"Good," said her mother with some relief. "I suggest you wear your robes and show your tattoos when you first meet this man. Let him know you are a Red Wizard rather than hide it and risk him realising this and start to wonder what else you are hiding."

Neeshka felt her eyes narrow as she heard this. It was a well-practised con, reveal some 'secret' that would be discovered anyway and use that revelation to argue that you had been open and honest. She'd tried to teach her harbour-boy to be less trusting but he'd never lost his willingness to take people at face value, though he had gained the power to make them regret betraying the trust he had extended.

"One more thing," the Headmistress said as she handed over a bag of supplies, "however angry the man is you should be patient, treat him as if you love him."

Her daughter glanced into the bag and then looked askance at her mother. "Why would I love someone who is a stranger to me?"

"Love can strike suddenly," the older Red Wizard replied with a strange distant smile, "but, to answer your actual question, you don't have to. Just treat him that way, please."

For a long moment mother and daughter looked at each other. The daughter wondering at the strangeness of that instruction and what had put that look on her mother's face and the Headmistress waiting to see if her daughter would ask rather than just look inquiringly at her. Finally the moment broke as the younger Red Wizard nodded once and closed the bag.

"A portal has been set to take you to Rashemen," the Headmistress informed her daughter, "you will arrive just outside the barrow of the Bear-god Okku, inside which you will find the man. I suggest you send two of your homunculi to Mulsantir ahead of you."

As the two Red Wizards started walking together across the room Neeshka looked back down the tower, judging where she could maybe shave a few seconds off her descent. It was going to be hard to get down the outside of the tower and through the hills before this younger wizard managed to get down the stairs and along the road but she had to try. She might be able to get a few seconds lead anyway as the pair of red robed scumsuckers were not heading towards the stairs, wait…_why_ were they not heading towards the stairs?

Neeshka lingered a moment watching in through the window, hoping she was not wasting valuable time, and then the Headmistress returned alone. The expression on her face was pensive, as if she had committed herself to doing something and was now having the second thoughts and doubts that often came crowding in when it was too late to do anything about them. Neeshka realised there must have been another portal in that other room and for a moment her grip on the stonework weakened in her despair.

Nearly falling jolted Neeshka out of her thoughts and she began to climb down, blank faced and focussing only on the climb and then the escape back out into the hills. She looked around calmly, judged she was somewhere quite safe, and then collapsed into tears. She had not agreed much with the priests of Helm that had raised her in the orphanage but she hoped they were right. That _the Vigilant One_ as God of Guardians would be watching over Blake and protecting him as Blake had protected her and then Neverwinter. Failing that Neeshka hoped that Hoar would bless her in revenge on these Thayans. They were quiet tears and soon over as releasing them let her determination reawaken. Even if she had to find some other way to follow she was going to find Blake, there could not be many Bear-gods called Okku or many towns called Mulsantir.

"There is actually only one of each," a voice said from the darkness, "but neither would you reach in time."

"Who's there?" Neeshka demanded, springing to her feet and adding after a moment, "and how in the Hells did you know what I was thinking?"

"Blood calls to blood and kin to kin," Mephasm said, stepping into the moonlight, "and your blood resonates more strongly since Black Garius' attempt at a binding ritual touched it. My congratulations, by the way, on your willpower in overcoming it."

Neeshka's eyes narrowed as she looked at Mephasm. His appearance was that of a rather mild looking Elf whose only unusual features were his blue skin and unusual eyes but she knew that was deceptive. Despite his lack of wings or talons or fangs and the absence of Infernal fires surrounding him he had been one of the most powerful and almost certainly the most intelligent of those of the lower planes Ammon Jerro had bound to his service. Neeshka trusted the timing of his arrival almost as little as she trusted Mephasm's references to 'kin' or the flattery of his congratulations.

"What do you want?" Neeshka asked, some slight hostility leaking into her tone.

"Revenge, but under laws greater than either of us I cannot act directly. If I aid you though then we both may benefit. I with my revenge and you in removing the man you love from the snare of his kidnapper's plans."

"And what," Neeshka said, suspicion dripping from ever word, "will that cost me?"

"A minor service," Mephasm admitted vaguely, "of no harm to you or anyone you love or even like. In return I will teleport you to Okku's burrow."

Neeshka wavered, there seemed no other way to get there in time and though she had been right Mephasm would require payment even for something that would benefit him this did not sound a vast price. To save her harbour-boy she'd have been willing to accept being harmed, but this deal sounded too reasonable. Was she going to have to sacrifice strangers that she didn't love or like? How would Blake react if she did something terrible even if she was doing it for him?

Mephasm watched the emotions play across Neeshka's face and hid his own smile as he gestured. "Here… as a gesture of my good faith, in this transaction at least."

There was a muted flash of light and a large chest appeared, then a second muted flash and a sword belt complete with scabbarded sword joined it. Neeshka moved forward both through curiosity and to steady the sword that was sliding slightly off the rounded top of the chest. She recognised it as she steadied it and turned slightly suspiciously back to Mephasm who was calmly watching.

"Where did you get this?" Neeshka demanded, glaring a little.

"It was on its way back to Crossroad Keep. When your lover reforged the Sword of Gith he realised such a weapon was not to be casually used and so rather than just set aside the sword he had been using he sent it to have the enchantments upon it strengthened. It served him well before and will serve him well again."

"And the chest?"

"From the same well guarded caravan. A gift from him to you which was delayed, along with his sword, by the chaos engendered by the march of the King of Shadows."

Neeshka looked at Mephasm a moment longer and then setting the sword to one side fiddled with the chest. It was locked, and with a very good lock, but Neeshka soon had it open and was looking at the set of armour within and the rapier resting on top of it. The same instincts that let her recognise what the best loot was from a haul were screaming at her about the quality of the workmanship.

"I suggest you take them," Mephasm prompted as Neeshka continued to just look at the items, "the magics on them cost him as much as rebuilding half his keep and will be most helpful in allowing you to achieve _your_ goals so _my_ goals can also be met."

Neeshka looked very unsure, if she took these then she was agreeing to the deal, but what choice did she have? She nodded and slung the sword belt over her shoulder before closing and sitting on the chest. Mephasm hesitated a moment, while Neeshka looked at him as if saying 'you expect me to get changed in front of you?', and then he smiled and gestured again. With another muted flash Neeshka and the chest vanished and Mephasm allowed his smile to grow now she was not there to witness this. Even if this was not to succeed the amusement was already worth the minor use of power.


	3. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Mud, roots, and the smell of old burnt offerings," the young Red Wizard complained as she made her way through the barrow, "my mother sends us to the most delightful places on the most delightful tasks."

"I like it," said her ugly flying companion, "better than the A-ca-dem-eee. Thems Golems there have no sense of humours."

"Yes, well, if you would stop trying to take what they are guarding they would stop trying to hit you."

"That be no fun."

The Red Wizard nodded vaguely, her attention more on what she could see ahead than on what was being said. They might finally have reached where they had been sent as there was a man lying on the floor, just across a narrow rock bridge and within what looked to be a magical circle. He was dressed only in long johns and his chest was heavily bandaged with those bandages showing signs they needed to be changed. The Red Wizard decided that even if she did love this man she'd still wait until after they had escaped to provide some of the fresh dressings her mother had included in the supplies.

As she dispelled the magical barrier between the rock pillars the man within stirred and tried to raise himself onto his hands before groaning and falling back down. An unexpected twinge of compassion distracted the Red Wizard and on a whim she decided to use her real name rather than a travelling alias. Crouching down to by the man's side she spoke. "Lie still," she instructed him, "My name is Safiya, I am here to help, and you need to gather your strength before you move."

The man groaned and then with an effort of will, which impressed Safiya against hers, visibly pushed back the pain and moved enough to be able to see who was talking to him. His eyes were alert as they moved over her and, unusually from her experience of the Instructors and Students at the Academy, this gaze was dispassionately assessing rather than leering.

"You," Blake said, "You are a Red Wizard of Thay. I…" He paused as he noticed the surroundings. "One of us is a long way from home."

"Both of us perhaps, and disregard the rumours you might have heard. Not all Red Wizards are the same."

"Where am I?" Blake asked, trying to not look too sceptical as vague memories haunted the back of his mind.

"You are in a barrow, deep beneath the soil of Rashemen."

Blake nodded. "Hundreds of miles from where I was on the Sword Coast. You seem to have known I would be here, do you know how I got here?"

"No, I do not," Safiya said truthfully, but knowing that her mother probably did know.

Blake sat up and touched his chest with a wince, looking at the mass of bandages covering it before shifting his eyes towards the edge of the circle. There was a pile of metal that looked like his armour, and beside it what looked like his helmet and shield, but something was missing from both him and that collection of belongings.

"The shard," Blake said with a cough, almost to himself, "the shard is gone and so is the Sword of…" He paused and looked at Safiya before continuing. "My sword is gone."

"I have a sword you can use," Safiya said, wondering what this man had been about to say but confident that she would learn before too long, "but we must hurry before the guardian spirits of this barrow awaken and try to prevent our leaving."

Blake stayed sitting for another moment. He mistrusted this situation, his chest and his head hurt like the Hells when he moved, and there seemed an absence within him left by the removal of the shard and the severing of his link with it. There was one certain thing though; however much the pressure of his armour on the bandages would hurt he would be better protected in full plate than in just his underwear. Blake staggered to his feet for the few steps it took to reach his armour and then gratefully sank down onto one knee as he began sorting the disorganised pile.

Safiya sighed to herself as this man started to divide the stack. She could see his efforts were placing solid lumps of metal one way, chainmail another, and cloth a third, but knowledge of how those without magic needed to protect themselves had never interested her. This made it hard to judge which would take longer, this man sorting and donning his armour or the argument she was sure they'd have if she told him to just carry it as it was. He did seem determined and to be going about this quite efficiently, despite his obvious pain, so better to at least let him sort it. She could also see the play of muscles beneath his bandages and long johns and, in some places, his bare skin so waiting was not as boring as it might otherwise have been.

That was the last coherent thought she had before agony overwhelmed her as a rapier slid in through the side of her neck. "Ogle my harbour-boy would you?" a voice hissed in her ear.

"Mistress!" the homunculus screamed, seeing what had happened.

Before it could do more than scream however the blade sliced free, cutting its way out of Safiya's throat and around and through the small flying target. The homunculus plopped to the floor, nearly chopped in two, at almost the same moment as its mistress finished slumping down onto her knees and then her face. Blake reached up and dabbed at his face, examining his fingers and seeing blood on them from where it had sprayed in this attack, before looking at the attacker.

"Are you just going to sit there looking more like a sheep than when you smile," Neeshka demanded, looking down at Safiya bleeding to death and choking on her own blood as it leaked between her ruined jugular vein and windpipe, "or are you going to finish getting dressed?"

"I am immensely glad to see you," Blake replied, still in mild shock at the sudden events, "but did you need to do that?"

"Believe me, I did," Neeshka said, giving the almost corpse a sour look, "She was sent here to pose as a rescuer and play you for a fool."

"Not hard at the moment," Blake admitted, rubbing his head and grateful both to see Neeshka and that his faith that she had a reason for the attack had been justified. "I'm not as agile as you my graceful sweetheart and getting cut open hasn't helped me recover from not managing to dodge a falling rock. At least it was only one rock unlike poor Grobnar or Casavir."

"They're dead?" Neeshka asked, startled at how abruptly Blake had given her the news.

"Grobnar tried to shield the Construct with his own body," Blake said, hauling on his padded shirt with a groan Neeshka pretended not to notice. "That was when I got hit by a rock. Casavir… it is blurry, Khelgar was helping me along as I'd already been hit, but I think he sacrificed himself to hold an arch up until the rest of us were clear."

As Blake laboriously layer by layer donned the rest of his armour Neeshka searched the corpses. It did not take her long but she pretended to be busy with this task until she saw her harbour-boy buckling on one of the last pieces of the solid plate that mostly covered the chainmail that covered the padded cloth. He'd been moving slowly and carefully but she knew that if he'd noticed she was waiting then he'd have tried to hurry or, at least, force himself to move at a more normal speed. She didn't like waiting but she did prefer it to her harbour-boy making a mistake or hurting himself by ignoring his injuries.

Satisfied this last strap was tight enough and positioned right Blake turned to Neeshka who smiled reassuringly at him. He smiled back and looked her up and down appreciatively as she looked even more beautiful in her new armour than Blake had expected. Of course she was beautiful to him in anything, or nothing, so though he wanted it to suit her he had intended the gift as a practical one. The fine Mithril chainmail had been tailored to her so it would not shift or clink as looser or coarser chainmail could. That she looked so slinky in it was a very pleasant surprise.

For a moment though Blake almost regretted having been so practical as he wondered what this chainmail would look like without the rest of the armour. The dark maroon of the cloth and leather of the leather 'breastplate' over her upper chest, the leather pauldrons and knee guards and upper-arm guards, and the padded thigh guards did suit her and she looked very lovely standing there with the extra protection these gave. How she would appear without them was something to look forward to discovering later though in a more suitable location.

"I see you found my gift to you," Blake smiled, giving her an admiring look before frowning in puzzlement, "but that would mean you have been back to Crossroad Keep. Did you discover a portal?"

"Sort of," replied Neeshka, wondering how she was going to explain things.

"Well," Blake said, willing to wait for an explanation, "I hope you like it, should give more protection than your old armour as well as…"

Suddenly he found his arms full of happy Tiefling and his words cut off by a passionate kiss. Blake half-staggered from the impact, both of the kiss and of Neeshka's arrival, but managed to keep his feet. Armour protected against caresses as well as blows but there was still enough fire in Neeshka's kiss to incinerate a Dragon. Though an underground barrow with a fresh corpse, freshly destroyed homunculi, and a far older dustier skeleton lying nearby was hardly romantic it took Blake and Neeshka long moments to care about that and for her to lean back from the kiss.

"I love this armour," Neeshka said, remaining with her arms around her harbour-boy, who also showed no inclination to release her, "not as much as I love you but almost as much!"

Blake half opened his mouth to respond but then he saw the twinkle in Neeshka's eyes as she looked up at him. Realising she had almost fooled him Neeshka giggled and pulled away, her tail squirming in happy wriggles as she pranced out of kissing range. Blake smiled happily as he watched her moving across to some shadows to pick something up and as he remembered other times that Neeshka's tail had wriggled like that.

"Here," Neeshka smiled, holding out the scabbarded sword and sword belt, "take this heavy clumsy thing before I forget."

Blake took it and did not protest Neeshka's assessment, he simply felt more comfortable with more metal than a rapier in his hand, just as he preferred more Mithril around him in armour plates and coarser chain than hers and to use the largest shield he could. Half-drawing the sword Blake checked it was sliding free in its scabbard before he buckled the sword belt around him.

"I hate to sound like Shandra used to," Blake said, as he fiddled with adjusting his sword belt and looked down at Safiya's corpse, "but what's going on? One moment I was trying to gather my wits back in Merdelain, the next I was waking up here almost naked, and then you arrive and tell me there is some sort of plot?"

"What do you remember?"

Blake rubbed his beard in thought, glad he had not yet put his helmet on, and tried to gather his thoughts and separate memory from dream. It was hard to think, his mind seemed clouded, but maybe that was the key? Gradually Blake worked his way back through events, using why they were hard to remember to sort them into what order they had occurred. He stooped and picked his helmet up from where it was sitting next to his kite-shaped shield.

"As… as I mentioned," Blake replied hesitantly, running his fingers over the slight dent in his helmet, "I got hit on the head by a rock, Khelgar helped me along, Casavir sacrificed himself, and then we rested in a round hall. Khelgar gave me a potion that knocked me out… then… and _then_ I remember waking and seeing a Gargoyle. Qara was the only other of our band there and she was unconscious so I rendered her invisible. I don't know if that worked, my head was pounding like a Dwarven forge and I passed out… I fainted… when the Gargoyle lifted me."

"I think it worked harbour-boy," Neeshka reassured him, "or at least you were the only one kidnapped. I heard Khelgar bellowing and managed to find my way back, but the Gargoyle you remember had picked you up and was carrying you away…"

Blake nodded as Neeshka ran though events. Of seeing and following Ammon Jerro and the gargoyle down a corridor and through a portal. Of finding the warlock unconscious and surrounded and Blake in a Gargoyle's arms. Of seeing the Red Wizard enter another portal and then return without her gargoyles or Blake. Of listening to that Red Wizard giving her daughter instructions and realising that daughter had used a different portal. And finally of being approached by Mephasm and being offered the deal Neeshka had taken to be here now. As Neeshka finished and glanced down, nervous of Blake's reaction to her literal deal with a Devil, Blake stepped forward and took her shoulders in his hands.

"You are the most precious jewel in my life. I thank Sune every day for blessing me with your love just as she has blessed you with beauty," Blake said, looking deep into the worried eyes she raised to him, "and I truly wish that my first thought, that you had been back to Crossroad Keep, had been correct. I would rather you were safe than having risked a bargain with Mephasm, but… had I been in your place I would also have bargained with the Hells to find you." Blake drew Neeshka in for a hug, crushing her against his chest despite the pressure that put against the bandages there, and kissed the top of her head. "I have a bad feeling about this," he continued, into Neeshka's hair, after a few moments thought. "I'd have been quite grateful for a portal out of that fortress, and you have told me I am too helpful…"

Neeshka shifted position slightly in the hug, tilting her head up to look at Blake and freeing an arm to place one finger over Blake's lips to shush him. "Same thoughts occurred to me," she admitted, "they might be trying to use you for something even that gratitude and your helpfulness would not allow… something evil… which added to the pleasure of killing that one and spoiling their plans."

"We still need to be very careful though," sighed Blake, releasing Neeshka with some reluctance, "we might not be that easily unmeshed from their schemes. At least I think I have heard of Mulsantir, it is one of the cities on the fabled Golden Way, though that does not help us finding our way there."

"This might," Neeshka replied, giving Blake another reassuring grin and waving the map she had found on Safiya's corpse, "and once we find the city we can find this Lienna and get some answers."

"If you wanted answers," Blake said, gesturing at Safiya's corpse with the hand that still held his helmet, "maybe you should have left her alive, though I doubt she'd have wanted to talk."

"Or been able to say much," Neeshka pointed out with concern. "Remember I said she was told very little so she didn't have to lie about not knowing things?"

"Ah, yes… yes, so you did."

Neeshka's concern deepened as it was not like her harbour-boy to forget things like that. Blake could see Neeshka was getting worried and he didn't want her to be so with an effort Blake squared his shoulders and tried to dispel the vagueness from his voice. "I see nothing else for us here," Blake said with more confidence than he felt, pulling up his chainmail hood with his free hand before bucking his helmet on over it, "and we had better move in case this Red Wizard was telling the truth about spirits here awakening."

As Blake picked up his shield and started to move across the rock bridge as he slid it onto his arm and tightened the straps Neeshka hesitated. She was not a wizard like her lover but she could recognise there were arcane carvings on the pillars and before that Red Wizard dispelled it there had also seemed to be magic joining them. A few moments longer to examine them for clues could be useful. But Blake was doing his best to hide how unwell he was and she loved him enough to let him think he was fooling her. Pointing out another, possible, mistake would spoil this so rather than speak she just hurried after him.

There was a noise of damp stone sliding over stone from around a corner ahead of them as they moved up an earth ramp. Rather than the crash of a ceiling collapsing though there was a far smaller thud, but then another, and another, getting louder and getting closer. "Footsteps?" Blake said, listening to the rhythmic thumping. "Earth Elemental?"

"Of all the things that Red Wizard was going to lie about," Neeshka complained, "why was she telling the truth about there being guardians?"

Blake nodded and drew his sword. "Let's hope Helm is not on their side or that Tymorra is more strongly on ours."

After having used the Sword of Gith for a while his old blade felt odd at first, the balance of the two had been rather different. Second by second though this sword began to again feel more at home in his hand than the Sword of Gith ever had. The thumping was becoming very loud and Blake gathered what arcane power he could through his weakness and chanted in preparation. A shape lumbered around the corner and then staggered in its stride as Blake sent a _Fireball_ into its chest.

Steam rose from the Barrow Guardian and some of its substance dried and crumbled away from it. The Earth Elementals Blake had fought before could have been described more as 'Rock Elements' as they looked like a collection of boulders. This creature though seemed to be made from the same damp soil as the walls and roof and floor of the barrow and to really be 'earth'. It was damp enough to resist the fireball and just dry out a little rather than crack in the sudden intense head as solid stone might have done. But it was soft enough to be easily cut as Blake followed his arcane attack with a physical one and his sword sliced through its body like a ploughshare through the soil, though unlike a ploughshare Blake's sword had harmful magic on it and in considerable quantities now it had been improved.

The Barrow Guardian shifted as the magic discharged and wounded it further. A mere physical cut would have been simple for it to repair as it brought the edges to merge back together, but the damage the magic did along those edges hampered this greatly. As it tried to turn to attack Blake Neeshka moved like a striking snake. Her rapier flicked out and into the body of their enemy before she just as quickly withdrew it. Her skills were not well suited against this foe as it had neither armour for her speed and precision to find chinks in nor any vital organs to strike. But Neeshka did not care, nothing was going to hurt her harbour-boy while she could prevent it.

Despite the disadvantage she was at her new rapier did a satisfying amount of damage; the wound was not wide but the metal of the blade had carried its magic deep inside the foe before it was released. There was a sub-vocal noise from the Barrow Guardian as it felt the effects of the fireball and the two blows and for a moment it seemed stunned. Blake gathered his strength, glad that though his cloak was missing his belt of strength was not, and swung with as much power as he could muster. He knew this would leave him off balance and vulnerable to a counter-strike, but he also felt his stamina could not endure more than a very short fight.

Blake's sword bit deep, his weight behind it driving it on and almost slicing the Barrow Guardian in two from shoulder to opposite hip. The pieces of guardian slumped away from each other as Blake staggered on with the momentum of his own blow and thumped shield-first into the wall. Levering himself up, using the wall more for support than he'd like to admit even to himself, Blake looked back at what had been a Barrow Guardian and now looked like a pile of mud and stone.

"Well," Blake said, trying to catch his breath, "that seems defeated."

Neeshka looked at Blake leaning on the wall and thought of all the battles they had been through together. The last time she had seen him look this weary had been when they had recovered the Belt of Ironfist. But there they had needed to climb a steep path up the slopes of Mount Galardyrm while fighting Fire Giants, and breathing air that stank with volcanic gases, and then had to fight a huge Red Dragon once the main camp of Fire Giants 'polluting her mountain' were dead and she had no further need of their tenuous alliance. Something was seriously wrong with him and the sooner they found a cleric the better.

Gathering his strength again Blake managed to stand and tried to give Neeshka another confident smile. She was frowning again and even through his haze of fatigue he felt she was too pretty to be frowning. As he staggered back into motion Blake noticed there was a side chamber and turned to head that way.

"Other way is out, harbour-boy."

"Hmm," Blake replied vaguely, "quick glance to check for anything useful and hope Oghma blesses us with knowledge."

Neeshka nodded, not sure whether Blake had truly intended to check the side chamber or if he had become disorientated and not wanted to admit it. Either way though he would need her help so, after a moment, she trotted after him. Concern twisted her heart as she saw that in that moment Blake had been out of sight he had gone down onto one knee, but then she felt equally strong relief as she realised he was examining something rather than having collapsed. Neeshka moved around to see what Blake was looking at and to keep a better eye on her harbour-boy.

For a split-second Blake wished that Neeshka was not quite so devoted. These scrolls had been a fine excuse to let himself slump down onto one knee and if Neeshka had stayed closer to the entrance to this chamber, where she could see further down the passage, he'd have been able to spend a few seconds only pretending to look at them. She was hovering attentively over him now though and she'd notice if he just stared blankly at the scrolls.

"Scrolls," Blake said, pointing out the obvious, "some quite powerful spells and they seem to still have the magic bound in them. Some to use, some to learn."

"Looks like a campsite," commented Neeshka, looking around. "I wonder if this belonged to that skeleton?"

"Skele…" Blake began, before remembering there had been a skeleton in the chamber below and nodding. "Aye, campsite looks long abandoned enough. Surprised the scrolls… and this book… are still intact when their owner has rotted down."

Blake reached across and picked up the book he had just noticed. Unlike the scrolls it did not seem too obviously magical but there must have been some spells of preservation on it or it would have rotted away like its owner. Blake started flipping pages, grateful for the excuse to stay kneeling, and read until Neeshka lost patience through curiosity and the desire to keep moving.

"What does it say?" asked Neeshka, shifting from one foot to the other.

"It seems to tell the tale of a Betrayer," Blake replied, taking the hint of Neeshka's body language and closing the book, "one who led a Crusade against the God of Death and the City of Judgement…"

"Sheesh! I thought you were ambitious taking on the King of Shadows."

"And that the Priests of Myrkul deny this Betrayer's Crusade ever happened," concluded Blake , standing and stowing the book away.

"Myrkul?" Neeshka said with a small frown of puzzlement. "I thought Myrkul was dead?"

"Aye, he is, which is reassuring as, if he was involved, that shows how long ago this happened."

Neeshka nodded, not looking entirely reassured but then neither did Blake. Centuries or even Millennia sometimes seemed no barrier to things from the past complicating the present. Hopefully if this book had belonged to the skeleton then it had just been his bedtime reading rather than there being a connection between those events and his presence in this place.

"Better keep moving," Neeshka prompted, the tip of her tail flicking back and forth as she listened for more foes.

"Aye. Book was interesting, but I agree with your pretty tail twitching that this is not the place to read it."

They both skirted the mud that had been the Barrow Guardian as neither wanted to risk it having enough life left in it to engulf their feet if they stepped on it. Soon they were peering up the soil slope that joined two layers of the barrow and Blake was trying to hide his dismay at the steepness of the incline. He wondered whether being a more normal Wizard, without the armour and with a staff to lean on, would have been better here. Fortunately his shield did have that blade-like ridge on its face from almost the broad curve at the top to the sharper point at the bottom. If he could do it accidentally when he staggered into that wall, he could probably dig this into a wall and use it to push off for support.

Slowly they climbed, Blake's boots slipping from the weight of him and of his armour and his shield thumping rhythmically into the left wall as he hauled himself up, using his shield like an invalid climbing stairs would use the hand they had on the balustrade. Neeshka by contrast barely seemed to make any sound or to leave any footprints, her feet almost instinctively finding the places where the soil was firm enough to not slide away beneath her boots. Gradually they approached a glimmer of light and Blake stumbled out, glad to be on the flat again but this gladness was replaced by weary annoyance as he saw a great spirit-wolf staring at him.

It did not seem to be attacking and nor was the more normal sized, but still ghostly, wolf that was at its side. Blake was grateful for the reprieve, though he doubted it would make much difference to his strange weariness however long these wolves gave him to recover from the climb. Neeshka moved up and protectively to Blake's side as he and the wolves continued to stare at each other.

"There you are Tiefling," the great wolf growled as it saw Neeshka, its voice sounding female to Blake, "we caught your scent as you trailed the Red Wizard, and we catch the scent of her blood now. But you were _alone_ when you went below."

"I am Blake Marsh, Knight of Neverwinter," Blake said, bowing his head slightly as he spoke. "I awoke in the chamber beneath us after being abducted by the Red Wizards. Hence the trailing and the blood as I required rescue."

"Something was trapped in the Cavern of Runes… a poison at the heart of our dream… swallowing memories and names," the wolf replied, her voice becoming even more firm. "_Whoever_ you are, _However_ you got there, whether your doing or not, anything that emerges from there cannot be allowed to walk free. Those were the words of our God before he sank into slumber."

"Well _my_ words now are…" began Neeshka, her tone implying what sort of words they would be.

"I assure you I mean no harm," Blake hurriedly and diplomatically interrupted. "I simply want to seek answers to my abduction and return home."

"Hrnh. What is that other scent, beneath the scent of the Red Wizard's blood?" the wolf mused to herself, hardly listening to either Neeshka or Blake. "Other blood, a wound that should have been mortal, but was not… No, something deeper, vile and familiar… why do I remember…"

Blake listened. What the wolf had said about something trapped below concerned him and especially since she now smelt something vile and familiar. Suddenly something twisted inside him, wringing the breath from his lungs like water from dishcloths. His ears filled with a wild groan, overlapping Neeshka's cry of surprise with cries of animal hunger. The groan rose and became a scream that drowned out all other sensation save pain and hunger, hunger that suddenly felt both sated for now and infinite in capacity and pain that ebbed as the hunger became dormant again.

For long moments all Blake could do was take deep ragged breaths. He was down on both knees, he didn't remember falling to them, and though the other pain had gone he could feel from the pain in his knees it must have been quite a sudden fall. A slim arm slid itself along his shoulders as Neeshka knelt beside him. Blake looked into her worried eyes and taking her left hand in his right raised it to his lips to kiss her fingers in love and gratitude.

"What just happened?" Neeshka asked after a moment.

"I am not sure. It felt like a hunger… something that welled up inside me. Wait, the wolves?"

"Both gone," Neeshka said, before clarifying, "the smaller one ran, yelping in fear. The other… you seemed to absorb it."

"Aye," Blake sighed, "I feared as much from that this hunger feels satisfied, for now."

"Was that as painful as it looked?" Neeshka asked, clearly hoping the answer would be no.

"It was unpleasant," Blake admitted, with equally clear understatement, "though more I think for the ghost-wolf. I wish that had not happened."

"You're a bleeding heart… er," Neeshka began before stopping, glancing at Blake's chest, and then trying again. "I mean you are a nice guy… but I've encountered enough guards to know when you're going to have to kill one to get past them."

"Maybe so, but if I am going to have someone's death on my account I want it to at least be my decision."

With that and one last kiss of Neeshka's fingers Blake started to his feet. Neeshka sprang up, ready to help him stand, but Blake stood quite easily. Blake frowned as they looked at each other and then rubbed at his chest with his right hand. Then he took several deep breaths, and shook his head. Drawing his sword he went through a quick flurry of blows and parries. Blake shook his head again as he returned his sword to its scabbard and turned back to Neeshka who had been watching all this with appreciation of the display.

"I feel… fine," Blake said, looking and sounding very puzzled. "No pain in my chest, my thoughts feel clear, my balance is good…" He ground to a halt as he realised he was starting to list all the things he had tried to hide from Neeshka. She smiled though, letting him know that she'd known all this all along and was glad he was feeling better. Blake smiled back and then looked around. "I still wish that had not happened to the ghost-wolf," he said after another moment, "both for her sake and because it is a mystery we may have to solve, but at least now we have a better chance of escape."

"This way harbour-boy," Neeshka replied, loping off.

Blake nodded and began jogging after her. His footsteps were still far heavier than his beloved's but heavier in the same way as a galloping plough-horse compared with a deer rather than being heavy like a drunk's clumsy staggering. Plates of metal slid over and rattled slightly against each other, leather straps creaked as they flexed, and Blake's boots thumped into the dirt floor as he finally was able to start moving at full speed. It was exhilarating being able to move this fast in this much armour and to know you could travel for hours alternating between a walk and this jog. Ahead of him though Neeshka had paused and Blake wondered whether she was being over-considerate, if she had not believed him when he had said he felt fine. Blake came to a stop and gave her a smile to show he was not out of breath.

Neeshka grinned back and pointed. "Chest!"

"Yes," Blake replied, glad it was this rather than concern, "but I don't want to anger the spirits any more than we have to and looting their barrow on our way out might annoy them."

"I don't think they can get any angrier," Neeshka said, the tip of her tail twitching in curiosity about what might be in the chest, "we're already defying their god. And you ate that… er."

Blake smiled again as he saw the prettily twitching tail and as Neeshka tried to not upset him by mentioning the spirit-wolf. "Good point, do we want to risk it though?"

Neeshka thought a moment and then stuck her tongue cheerfully out at Blake. "Spoilsport!"

Blake accepted this judgement with the good grace of someone who knew it was true and who loved the person making the judgement. After a moment Neeshka gestured and started off down the passageway again, Blake obediently following behind. Or more accurately following Neeshka's behind, the play of muscles beneath the fine chain, the way her tail swung in counterpoint to her hips, the sheer grace of her movements… with an effort Blake ground those thoughts to a halt. Maybe it was that having tasted Neeshka during that night in his chambers in Crossroad Keep he was now addicted, maybe it was the hunger that had consumed the spirit-wolf making itself known in another equally primal way, but he needed to concentrate on less pleasant matters.

They had entered a chamber where the skeleton of a huge bear was displayed on an earth platform. Blake looked around for a way onwards and then at Neeshka who was glaring at one wall. Looking where she was looking Blake could see there was a part of the wall that looked fresher, like soil newly turned by a plough, and he began to suspect why his sweetheart was looking so angry.

"Not fair!" Neeshka protested, before confirming Blake's suspicion, "That was open when I followed that red-robed slime down here."

Blake nodded and dug two fingers experimentally into the barrier; it seemed difficult to scrape even that shallow narrow groove out of the mud and, as he watched, the mud shifted and the scrape vanished. He glanced back at the bear skeleton and then at the barrier, even if he had spells to dispel magic prepared that might start a fight and he was hoping to avoid tempting fate and the hunger within him by facing more spirit-animals. "Is there another exit?" he asked eventually.

"Your guess is as good as mine harbour-boy. I was a little busy sneaking and following to go exploring."

"Hmm," Blake replied pensively. "We'd better start searching then, either another route or something to help us get out."

"See!" said Neeshka, adding when Blake looked at her enquiringly. "I told you we needed to open that Chest!"

"Gods I love you," Blake chuckled. "North first?"

Neeshka shrugged so Blake nodded and started to lead the way. There seemed not much along the passage but Blake felt a slight twinge of optimism as he saw a dark opening with some exposed stonework at the end of it. Unfortunately the earthen slope past it seemed to lead down rather than up. Blake leaned forward to peer down the slope, resting his right hand on a projecting rock and then cursed as that rock came free of the mud and bounced and rolled away. To his surprise Neeshka nearly overbalanced him again as she pushed past him and stuck her head into the opening.

"What…" Blake began.

"Shush!" said Neeshka, listening intently for a few more moments. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

In reply Neeshka pulled another rock free and lobbed it down into the darkness. Blake listened hard and heard it thud and bounce and thud and bounce and clack and bounce? That last sounded like stone on stone rather than stone on earth and Blake nodded as faintly he heard more clacking.

"Stone stairs?" Blake mused. "Stone ramp?"

"Stone something, so worth checking."

"Aye," Blake replied, moving carefully onto the earth ramp, "let's hope the stone coming free was _Lady Luck_ Tymorra rather than _Lady Doom_ Beshaba.

Despite Blake's qualms the descent was quite easy, now he had his sense of balance back his boots seemed to grip far better and not once did he need to dig his shield into the wall for extra support. Earth turned to stone slippery with seeping moisture and then to stone that was still dry. This made the footing surer but worried Blake a little as it showed something was preventing whatever was below from becoming too damp. Maybe growing up in the middle of a Mere was making him too concerned, as in a swamp you expected any hole you dug to fill with water before you finished digging, but he was sure that even in dry places mines and passageways needed pumps or magic to remain dry.

Neeshka looked around as they passed through a stone doorway and into a corridor. "Well, at least it doesn't look like those Illefarn ruins."

"Aye," Blake agreed sourly, "had more than enough of Illefarn. Is something familiar about this… ah, it will come back to me if Oghma wills it does."

Neeshka moved ahead and expertly looked over the door ahead of them for traps. She nodded to Blake to show she had found none but then walked the fingers of one hand along the back of the other. Blake nodded back to show he understood that Neeshka had heard footsteps past the door and drew his sword and braced himself. The door was still capable of sliding open by itself so Neeshka triggered it and stepped back to join Blake who was moving forward into range to block the doorway with his shield.

For a moment there was no reaction within the room and then there was the sound of metal grinding on metal. Neeshka winced and glanced at Blake, but then her attention was drawn back to the doorway where an armoured figure had just appeared. Given warning by the sound of its approach Blake struck, his sword slicing through the rusty metal of his foe and his own well-maintained armour almost silent by comparison. An instant after Blake's sword sheared through one upper arm Neeshka stabbed her rapier into the throat of their enemy and with a sideways jerk decapitated it. There was a clatter of helmet metal on stone floor as that bounced towards them and the rest of their enemy slumped back and landed with a noise like a blacksmith's hammer rack giving way.

Neeshka shook her head as she looked down at that of their foe and a skull face looked back at her from inside the open-face helmet. She was not going to complain, much, about the time Blake spent oiling and cleaning his armour rather than oiling and cleaning his Tiefling now she had heard what rusty armour joints squealing against each other was like. But this was not something she liked fighting. "Not more undead! How am I supposed to stab them when they are already pre-stabbed?"

"Did well there dear," replied Blake, somewhat distracted by if he could hear another one of these armoured skeletons. "Without the flesh necks make a thin target, so that was an impressive strike, and without the flesh less to hold the head on so you could pop the bones apart."

"Maybe," Neeshka said, frowning at the lack of sympathy, "but _with_ the flesh stabbing them in the neck is enough, or stabbing them in the heart, or in the…"

"Point taken," admitted Blake, frowning himself at what he could see through the doorway.

Neeshka glanced in that direction. "What are they waiting for?"

"Waiting for us to move," Blake replied quietly. "Smart Undead. They're not coming through the doorway for us to chop up one by one and they know they can outwait us. We move back and they can get through the doorway without being destroyed, we move forward and they can all strike at once."

Neeshka nodded, be hard even for her to dodge four attacks coming from around a curve in front of her. Then she spared Blake another glance and another frown as he stared at where one of the undead used to keep its eyes, hoping this would work to keep its attention as it would with a living creature. "How the Hells do you know all this _harbour-boy_?"

"Captain of Crossroad Keep?" Blake replied rhetorically. "I know there were some juicy stories about why Kana often visited my chambers until late into the night, and the stamina those stories, and the ones about Katriona and Light-of-Heavens, assigned me was somewhat flattering but it was professional." Neeshka opened her mouth as if to say something and Blake twitched one corner of his mouth at her in a slight smile. "Professional as in they were recommending things I should read and giving advice on how those theories worked in practice," he clarified before Neeshka could comment, "not professional as in handing over gold to have a happy hour or two."

"Right…" Neeshka said, elongating the word and putting an exaggerated expression of disbelief on her face, unable to resist the temptation to tease her sweetie before asking more seriously, "so what does all this reading and talking tell you to do now?"

In reply Blake began to chant an incantation and the weave twisted to his spell of _Vitriolic Sphere_. A great blob of acid formed and streaked away from him into the Undead. To be close enough to all be in weapon range of the doorway they had needed to be close enough to each other that they could all be splashed by the thinner acid as the thicker clung to the one Blake had struck directly. The exposed bone of their skull faces hissed as it began to disintegrate and patches of their armour started to look cleaner as the rust dissolved away to reveal bare metal.

Before they could respond to this attack Blake began to chant again to follow up his attack. Again the weave responded to his words and the projectiles of a _Greater Missile Storm_ curved from Blake into the Undead who were still smoking as the acid ate at them. Patches of armour weakened by acid, or rust, or both heated and twisted as the missiles released their magic energy into them and one of the Undead staggered back before trying to regain his place at the shoulder of his fellow armoured skeleton. Blake watched this calmly, the Undead had thought there was a stalemate so it had been good to prove them wrong.

With a squeal of rusty joints, and a clatter as some of the old and already rotten leather straps gave way to the acid and released the plates they were holding, the Undead shuffled back out of sight and away from the doorway. Blake sprang forward and through, taking one blow from his left on his shield without this slowing him and then bringing his blade round in a powerful forehand arc against the Undead ahead of him. His strength was magically enhanced, his sword was magically enhanced, and his foe had armour weakened by age and acid. The contest was somewhat unequal.

Behind him, as Blake pulled his sword back and out of where it had sheered through armour and spine, Neeshka pivoted on one foot to lithely twist her body out of the line of the attack aimed at her. Before the Undead could recover Neeshka had twisted back, her rapier thrusting out in one graceful motion and through a chink in its armour. Neeshka cursed as she twitched her sword back, feeling it catch a moment on the edge of a plate; there had been nothing beneath that part of the armour for her blade to pierce. One thing you were advised was to be careful of striking bone in case you got your blade wedged in it, but these things were nothing but armour and bone.

Turning his attention to the armoured skeleton that had managed to attack him Blake feinted that he was going to swing his sword out to his right to then bring it back in the same sort of sweeping blow that had destroyed the other. These might be smart undead, but they were not that smart. Falling for it his foe lunged to try to strike before Blake could bring his sword back. Instead it found its momentum carrying it onto Blake's blade as he stabbed it forward into where its guts would have been. Bringing his shield-hand around, despite the encumbrance of the shield strapped to that arm, Blake grasped his sword hilt with both hands and heaved upwards. It was rare he used both hands on his hand-and-a-half sword but in this case he would make an exception.

The lower part of the Undead's breastplate crumpled around Blake's sword, the straps holding breast and back plate together stretching under the strain, and for a moment Blake was supporting the Undead's entire weight on the edge of his blade. Then the Undead slid backwards off Blake's sword and thumped onto its back on the floor. That it was Undead was a mixed fortune. Lifting it had not been as much of a strain compared with a living opponent as it had lost a lot of weight with its flesh, but a living opponent would be dead or dying from that wound rather than trying to get up. Removing his shield hand from the hilt Blake solved the problem by bringing his sword down in a backhand blow through its neck.

Blake turned just in time to see Neeshka slip out from between the two Undead that were still moving and as they almost collided stab one in the side and drag her rapier to sever its spine. That Undead fell and the last was suddenly facing two opponents; if it had still had a face it might have shown fear but Blake doubted it had that much wit remaining. Neeshka started flicking her rapier towards its eyesockets, keeping its attention as Blake approached. Freed of the need for even the small amount of subtlety he possessed Blake swung his blade in the same finesse-less blow he had used on that Barrow Guardian, but this time he was not overwhelmed by his own momentum.

Neeshka grinned at Blake as they stood among the remains. Blake smiled back and looked around; they seemed to be in a library and this could be useful, depending on what information they could find. Starting towards the nearest bookshelf Blake stopped as he heard a delicate cough. "Er… harbour-boy," Neeshka said, pointing at the floor.

Blake looked and saw what she meant; three of the undead were still twitching. The one he'd lifted and decapitated seemed to be inert, but the two with severed spines were moving their arms. Rather horribly the one he'd just cut from the join of shoulder and neck to out the opposite armpit was feebly moving the arm still attached to the chunk of it with the head on. Blake nodded and stamped on the neck of this undead remnant, crushing those bones and popping the skull free as the neck broke. One quick sword stroke decapitated another undead while Neeshka dealt with the final one. They paused and looked at the Undead suspiciously; waiting to see if they would start twitching again and need to be cut into smaller pieces, but all seemed still.

Wiping his sword off, more through force of habit than need as undead skeletons had no blood and gore to coat the blade, Blake returned it to his scabbard and went back to considering the bookshelves. Disappointingly there was no book or scroll marked 'secret passage to safety', or 'summary of what you need to know to teleport home', or even one that seemed to be a map of these ruins. There were a few magical scrolls though which Blake took as some of the magic was new to him and the rest he could sell when a suitable merchant was found.

Neeshka meanwhile had been checking the walls and a side room for hidden doors. Tracks in the dust showed there had been some Undead in there as well and what was left of the door showed they had smashed it to join the others. Neeshka returned and handed Blake a few more scrolls but shook her head. "I think we are going to have to go back into the barrow harbour-boy."

"Seems so," Blake replied, looking rather less than overjoyed by the prospect.

The climb up from the library was simple enough and heading back down the barrow passageway Blake and Neeshka just continued on the way they were going until they reached another dark opening with another set of exposed stonework around it.

"Well, we know there might be some more ruins down there," Blake said, his voice showing his mixed feelings.

"And that there might be some more undead down there."

"Aye," Blake agreed dourly, pitching a stone down into the darkness and listening. "Is a clack so we know there is exposed stonework down there rather than this having filled with mud."

"Come on beloved," Neeshka said with an exaggerated sigh, "sooner we check the sooner we get this over with."

As they descended they began to smell something, a different scent overlaying and then replacing that of soil and mud. "This could be promising," Blake commented, one boot almost slipping as he was distracted by his thoughts.

"How so?" Neeshka asked, hoping Blake would keep his mind more on the climb.

"Smells like a smithy," Blake said a few seconds later, sniffing a couple of times to make sure. "Which means they need fuel for the forges and ore to smelt; that is not something you want to carry up and down stairs by hand, so there might be another way out from there."

Neeshka nodded as they continued down and reached where soil gave way to stone. "They'd at least need chimneys."

"True," Blake replied, not seeing the point, "smoke has to go somewhere."

Several more seconds passed as they moved down the dark downwards passageway and emerged into a corridor. "No surprise here," Blake commented, looking around, "same style of stonework as the other place and definite smithy smells."

"I could probably wriggle up a chimney…"

Blake grinned suddenly. "Yes, I remember you telling me about that job where to get through a narrow gap you had to strip down and oil up…"

"Yes, and I remember you remember," Neeshka replied, grinning back. "Giving me a warm-oil massage might have been a coincidence, but I recall a certain harbour-boy telling me the stonemasons had done good work… no narrow gaps in the wall of that room!"

"The expression on your face before the punchline," Blake chuckled, "There you were, and there I was, and I start talking about stonemasons when you are lying there glistening with oil, your beautiful breasts quivering beneath my palms, your…."

Neeshka snapped her fingers in front of Blake's face to interrupt his recitation. "Mind on the job harbour-boy, all I was going to say was I could get up a chimney but I don't think you could."

"Hmm, true," Blake agreed, trying not to dwell on memories of a naked, oiled, and aroused Neeshka. "Maybe I should have learned one of the size reducing or shape changing spells."

"You are just the right size and shape for me…" Neeshka said, before trailing off. "Gods, did I just say what I think I said."

Blake smiled and taking Neeshka's shoulders in his hands drew her in towards him, kissing her on the forehead between her delicately curved horns. "I know what you meant."

"And I did mean it in all ways," Neeshka replied, tilting her head up slightly to give Blake a grin and a saucy wink.

"Er…" Blake said, blushing, "thank you?"

Neeshka pulled away from Blake's light grasp and danced happily away a little. "You're welcome."

For a moment Blake just looked at her; she made comments like that and moved with such enthralling grace and she expected him to keep his mind on the job? At times it seemed completing a complex arcane recitation while punched in the head by a Troll was simple compared with completing a chain of thought in Neeshka's presence. "So," Blake said, trying to change the subject, "two doors, one ahead and one to that side."

Neeshka nodded, moving quietly down the corridor and checking over that door. Blake tried to watch over her rather than simply watch her bend and stretch as she checked the door from bottom to top. She smiled to Blake before returning and going the short way down the side corridor to check the second door. Blake smiled back and continued to try to remember there was too much danger here to let himself be distracted by memories or fantasies.

Fortunately for Blake's tattered concentration Neeshka went about both tasks with smooth efficiency. She did feel tempted to tease him, some ways of bending and stretching were more eye-catching than others, but she could see the look in her harbour-boy's eyes and she knew if his control broke she'd also be swept away with passion. Neeshka's fingers faltered slightly as a sudden image of being pushed against the nearest wall came to her mind. Catches and buckles on armour being hurriedly released to remove just enough, their lips remaining locked in a kiss, and then being taken roughly and gasping against her harbour-boy's mouth as he thrust into her. Blake had been gentle and considerate as a lover so it might be fun to goad him into something a little more primitive. Unfortunately now was not a good time… dammit.

Blake looked at Neeshka as she moved back to join him and wondered what had put that sparkle in her eyes. He was worried, normally that meant she had thought of something and normally that meant trouble. Neeshka flushed slightly as she saw the worried look and wondered how Blake would react if she told him there was nothing to worry about and what she had been thinking.

"No footsteps in either room harbour-boy, and the doors were unlocked and untrapped even before I went over them."

Blake looked back and forth between the doors before heading towards the one that had been straight ahead of them. This slid open and Blake stepped through, still keeping his shield cautiously ready as there were things that floated or slithered rather than walked. Along the back wall were crates and weapon racks and some forges with narrow flues. There didn't seem to be any shafts to carry away foul air or to winch things up and down but there was a side door. Something was strange though; there was something bothering Blake about this room, and then he realised. There were weapon racks but scattered across the floor was an assortment of weapons and these were bright and shiny rather than having corroded from not being stored properly.

"Careful," Blake said, drawing his sword.

"Of what?" Neeshka started to ask, before hurriedly drawing her own sword as the weapons on the floor leapt into the air like a flock of ugly birds.

Blake felt one eye twitch as he tried to figure out how to fight these. Meeting weapon with weapon made a fine noise on a stage but was something to avoid in a real fight. These though were nothing but weapon. A Warhammer swooped at him and Blake cursed as he deflected the blow with his shield but then missed with his reflexive counterattack. If there had been a hand holding that weapon then his sword would have neatly struck his enemy's forearm, but there was not so it had struck empty air.

His mind raced as considered the spells he had prepared. What sort of magically created energies would harm these weapons? Acid again maybe, but that acid might be smeared from them onto himself and Neeshka as the weapons attacked. Fire might burn the handle on the Warhammer but the metal of it and the other weapons would be mostly unaffected other than to get hot which, again, could hurt if they landed a blow. They were flying above the ground so electricity might not flow through them if Blake struck them with that sort of spell, and even if it did they were metal so they might conduct it without harm.

Blake smiled as an idea came to him. "When I say dodge," he said to his agile sweetheart, "dodge and get back into the corridor. Well back."

Neeshka looked dubious, she was not going to abandon Blake, but seeing that smile on his face reassured her he had a plan rather than just wanting to put himself between her and harm. She nodded and gracefully parried the attacks of a pair of daggers that were working together. Blake was already shuffling back towards the doorway so Neeshka moved to keep at his side where they could, like the daggers, work together. This was getting dangerous though as they were getting less room to dodge the further Blake retreated.

Blake felt a prickle of sweat on his brow. Moving back like this meant all the attacks were coming from one direction. This was good as it meant he could keep his shield to them, but bad as these animated weapons could get a lot closer together than if someone was holding them. Eventually his shield-arm would tire from the relentless concentrated attacks, or his shield would crack, or his foot slip as a blow hit while he was still off balance from the previous. Another shock ran up his arm and his elbow twinged as he met yet another attack and fought to prevent his shield from being driven back against his body.

"Dodge!" Blake snapped, starting immediately to chant.

Neeshka twisted backwards, slipping between Blake and the wall and through the doorway behind him, as her harbour-boy began casting his spell. The animated weapons flocked forward as she retreated and without her help and with trying to recite the incantation correctly it became even harder for Blake to block the attacks and continue shuffling backwards. Then he finished and a _Fireball_ was created and almost immediately detonated. This enveloped all the animated weapons as they had flocked together in their pursuit as well as forward.

Blake grunted as he caught the edge of the explosion; he'd tried to leap back a little as the spell finished but maybe he'd cut the timing too close. On the other hand there was not much time to be cut. He'd needed Neeshka to retreat when there was enough room for her to get past him but not so much room that he was too far from the doorway. So there was at most a few moments either way there and in how fast he could cast the spell. Blake staggered backwards out into the corridor to join his rather more quick-footed darling.

"Are you okay harbour-boy?" Neeshka asked, rather concerned as she thought she smelt singed beard hairs.

"Shield is a little scorched, but I'm still moving."

"Uh-oh," Neeshka said, looking at the doorway, "looks like they are as well."

The flock of animated weapons had recovered from the shock of being fireballed and were bobbing and weaving as they started to pass through the doorway and out into the corridor in pursuit. The wood of the Warhammer was smouldering slightly, as was the cloth wrapped around the hilts of some of the other weapons, but aside from that, as Blake had expected, they seemed unaffected. Neeshka had just time to give Blake a slight worried glance before she realised her harbour-way was muttering words of magic again. The animated weapons bobbed a little closer and then a great wave of freezing energy surged down the corridor and over them as Blake completed his spell of _Cone of Cold._ They hissed as moisture in the air around them froze from the spell and then boiled away again as those tiny ice crystals met the heated metal.

"Well, that cooled them off again, but…" Neeshka started to say.

Then she felt a sense of déjà vu as she realised her harbour-boy was still chanting and although she didn't understand the words she did notice this had the same cadence as before. A moment or two passed as the animated weapons started to recover and then another wave of freezing energy from a second _Cone of Cold_ played over the weapons. This time the ice that formed on them did not boil away and their movements became more sluggish as they suddenly weighed that much more.

"Slowed them down at least."

"Hopefully I did more," Blake replied, moving forward and swinging his sword.

As the magically enhanced edge of his blade met the ice coating one of the floating daggers the ice shattered, but then so did the dagger itself. Fragments of metal and ice tinkled on the corridor floor as Blake brought his sword back to smash through another animated weapon. And another, and then another. Neeshka recovered from her surprise and stabbed her rapier forward, its point meeting the flat of one floating sword. As the floating sword cracked in two and the two inert halves fell to the floor Neeshka looked at Blake.

"Metal gets brittle when it gets very cold," Blake commented, noticing the look, "or can do when quickly heated and cooled, or both."

Soon all the animated weapons were in smaller pieces on the floor and, unlike the Undead, were showing no signs of twitching. Blake looked down at them and blessed Aldanon for being so inclined to wander so far away from the point of what they were trying to discuss. It made it hard to get a straight answer from the sage but this was not the first time the unasked for information had ended up being very useful. His boots crunched on ice and little fragments of metal as Blake advanced back into the room.

"I hope you have the spells to do that again," Neeshka said, slipping back past him and across to check the side door.

"I hope I don't have to," Blake replied, staying far enough back to give himself time to react and cast a fireball if he did have to.

Neeshka nodded to Blake and then triggered the door to open. She darted her head through the doorway quickly, glanced around, and withdrew in one quick flurry of motion. It had been very useful in her former profession to be able to take in an entire scene with a quick glance around a corner. "No more animated weapons or weapons on the floor, just a workbench and a statue."

"Blast," Blake muttered. "One more dead-end."

Neeshka gave Blake a smile to say 'how can it be bad, I'm here' and then started checking over the crates and weapon racks. When her harbour-boy had paid for the renovation of the Captain's Quarters and the private wing at Crossroad Keep he had been pleasantly surprised to find the gift of a Bag of Holding. It had not taken many longing looks before that gift had become Neeshka's and, as Blake watched her happy looting, he was glad it had. The smile she'd given him when he'd succumbed to her hints had been enough payment, but that giving it to her had prevented the damned Red Wizards stealing it was a fine bonus. A few more items disappeared into the, theoretically, almost infinite capacity of the Bag of Holding before Neeshka straightened and looked back at Blake.

"Better check the other room," Blake said, his tone conveying how much he felt that would probably be a waste of time.

"Come on harbour-boy, _cheer_ up," Neeshka chided, "adventure and loot."

Blake forced a smile. "Aye, adventure and loot."

Neeshka put a bit of extra sway in her hips and deliberately brushed past Blake, letting her tail stroke his leg slightly as she passed. She glanced over her shoulder and then smiled to herself as she saw Blake was admiring the sway. It was good at times to be able to distract him so easily from feeling discouraged. Blake dragged his mind back onto business as they moved down the short side corridor. He knew full well how Neeshka had just manipulated him, but he also knew how much he enjoyed being manipulated by her. She had very skilled fingers… but that was not what he should be thinking about now rather than being alert for threats. Blake braced himself as Neeshka triggered this third door.

"Golems…" Neeshka reported. Blake drove his boots into the floor to close the gap between himself and Neeshka. Some Golems could be resistant to magic so he needed to keep them bottled up in the doorway if he could. "Whoa, whoa," she exclaimed, taken by surprise by the reaction, "they're not active."

Blake slowed his charge to a walk and looked into the room. Neeshka was right, the Golems slumped along one wall were showing no signs of pseudo-life and even the one that seemed to still have a spark was not reacting to their arrival. Very cautiously Blake moved into the room and started examining the Golems and the alchemy bench that shared the room with them.

"I think these might be Skerry," Blake said thoughtfully, "no Immy… Imma…"

"Imaskari?" Neeshka asked casually.

"How did you know that?" Blake replied, not hiding that he was impressed.

Neeshka shrugged and smiled prettily, "You need to know where stuff comes from before you can fence it for the best price."

"True enough," Blake admitted with a nod. "Anyway, I think I could reactivate this one, but I'm not sure if it would then just attack us. Maybe I should have paid more attention to what Grobnar did with that construct." He sighed and turned to Neeshka. "Never thought when we met him I'd miss him, rather than wanting him to be gone."

"Think of it this way," Neeshka said comfortingly, "he's probably telling tales about you in his heaven right now…"

"That doesn't help."

"And being waited on hand and foot by that pair of Gnome sisters that wanted him to join their pack," Neeshka finished, ignoring the interruption.

Blake smiled. "Hmm. They might have made it, they were trying to not kill people despite having been made Werewolves."

"Even if it doesn't attack us," Neeshka said, changing the subject back, "Golems are even more heavy-footed than you. I don't think we want to give these spirits the extra warning."

Blake thought a moment and then nodded. "Aye, let's just keep looking for a way out."

Leaving the Golems and the remains of the animated weapons behind them they climbed back up towards the barrow proper. Blake wondered if the Golem would have even been able to make this climb if he had reactivated it. Walking and fighting would have been what it was programmed for, not for finding firm footing that would support its very solid weight. Turning his thoughts from that Blake considered what to do next.

"Been north of here, all the way north was that library, partway was the route that was blocked. But we did come west from where we came up, and I think there was a corridor going further east from there."

"There was," Neeshka confirmed, a little surprised her harbour-boy sounded unsure about this. After some of the labyrinthine tombs she had found her way through keeping track of the passageways here was very simple.

Emerging back into the barrow they headed east and down the passage that Blake had thought, and Neeshka had known, was there. This split and Blake hesitated a moment before shrugging and turning right to head south. However as they continued this seemed a mistake as ahead of them a quartet of diffuse patches of light appeared in mid-air. Once more Blake drew his sword and as something seemed to condense out of each of those lights he wondered what it was they were going to face.

"Ghost-animals!" Blake exclaimed what was forming became clear, a note of fear that surprised Neeshka entering his voice.

Neeshka glanced at Blake and then met the attack of one, it sprang forward and Neeshka thrust out with her sword into its snarling mouth. This was not that good a move as, although it stabbed through the roof of the mouth into the brain, it risked the attacker's blade wedging in the skull. Fortunately for Neeshka the spirit-animal reacted as it would have done in life to such a blow even though it had no brain to wound and no skull to trap her sword. As Neeshka drew her rapier back and the spirit-animal convulsed, blocking the other spirit-animals for a moment with its death throes, she glared slightly at Blake who was hanging back.

"Harbour-boy," Neeshka said, slightly snappishly, "fight going on."

Blake looked at Neeshka and then back at the spirit-animals as he gathered his thoughts. The decision suddenly became very simple to him and he stepped forward, a snarl equalling that of the spirit-animal escaping him as fear turned to anger at his near failure. Blake slammed his shield into one as it pounced; bowling it back into another with the strength his magical belt gave him. As the spirit-animals tried to disentangle themselves from each other he brought his sword down, the broad blade slicing through them both and into the dirt floor.

The forms of the two spirit-animals swirled and dissipated in the same way as Blake had been too busy to notice the other one doing. As he pulled his sword back out of the dirt and the swirling spirit-energy however he suddenly felt his arm weigh a lot more as spirit-teeth closed on the armour. Blake staggered slightly as his arm was dragged down and the spirit-animal started wrenching back and forth, its paws slipping slightly in the loose soil. In some ways it was a surprise that a spirit would have weight, but in other ways it made sense as if they weighed nothing then how could they pounce with any impact or indeed, as here, try to use their weight to drag prey down.

Blake tried to not resist the wrenching motions, to move with the spirit-animal rather than against it. Even spirit-teeth did not do much other than scratch the Mithril protecting his forearm as they slid slightly across it with each wrench. The danger was not that the teeth would get through; the danger was that a wrench in the wrong direction could dislocate his elbow or take him off balance and bring him down to where the spirit-animal could get at his throat or face. Eventually Blake, unlike a spirit, would tire and make a fatal mistake.

Unfortunately for the spirit-animal eventually was far too long. Neeshka saw her chance and stabbed forward, her rapier entering the spirit-animal just behind its shoulder and passing through where it would have had its heart and out the other side. She released the hilt and stepped back, letting go of the sword before it could be torn from her hand by the spirit-animal's writhing, her sword hand going to her dagger she more often used for cutting tripwires or slicing bread than for fighting. Blake felt the spirit-animal's jaw clench in pain, his armour flexing slightly within it, but then the spirit-muscles relaxed and he was able to pull his arm free and also step back. They watched as the spirit-animal twisted about, trying to turn its head to bite at the rapier piercing its body, before its energies swirled and dissipated. There was a slight thump as Neeshka's sword, no longer supported by the spirit-animal's body, fell to the floor As Neeshka moved forward to pick this up she glanced at Blake who was examining his forearm armour.

"So, what was _that_ about?" Neeshka asked, picking up her sword and dusting a bit of dirt off it.

"What was what…" Blake began to say, before the expression on Neeshka's face brought his denials to a halt. She looked at him and Blake realised honesty was the only option, "I was worried that if I fought ghost-animals the hunger inside me would awake again, and not as easily return to sleep, but I realised I was more worried you'd be hurt if I did nothing."

Neeshka's expression of impatience shifted to a smile. Her harbour-boy could have expanded on the subject a little, could have added some pretty declarations of love and devotion, but simple straightforward honesty from her simple straightforward sweetheart was, in some ways, more touching. Unlike many men she had known Blake was more inclined to do things rather than talk endlessly about what he was going to do and what he had done before. Blake was still embarrassed by his hesitation so rather than bask in the smile he looked away down southwards past where the spirit-animals had appeared and then took a few quick strides to peer around the slight corner and around the chamber the passageway flared into. He'd not expected anything else, there had been no draught and no smells of fresh air, but it was still disappointing to see the dead end.

"North?" Neeshka asked.

"North," sighed Blake.

Backtracking swiftly they were soon past where they had turned south and had entered yet another section of unexplored but familiar looking earthen corridor. Blake sniffed at the air as something about it seemed to be changing, but nothing seemed to smell different. He felt like he was on the verge of realising what the change was but then there was a rumble, a large section of the wall detached itself, and Blake had other things to consider. The dirt shaped itself into a Barrow Guardian and it plodded towards Blake and Neeshka, the caps of the mushrooms still attached to its upper side wobbling slightly with each step. Unfortunately for it Blake was in no mood to waste time and, unlike against the previous Barrow Guardian, was back in full possession of his skills. It drew back one arm to swing a blow at Blake as he moved forward into range, but before it could strike Blake had. A flurry of blows carved into the Barrow Guardian, each one slicing away a chunk of mud and stones and discharging magic from Blake's sword into its body. Lumps of dirt sprayed in all directions like water from a wet dog shaking itself and, almost before Neeshka could react, there was nothing left for her to help defeat.

"At least these seem no angrier or stronger than before," commented Blake, glancing down at the pile of earth what had been left of the Barrow Guardian had collapsed into.

"Told you they couldn't get any madder," Neeshka pointed out, admiring how good her harbour-boy looked standing there victorious.

Blake smiled at that comment and then looked down the corridor and sniffed the air again. "Does the air seem colder to you?" he asked, suddenly realising what it was he was noticing.

"Maybe a little."

Blake nodded and felt very cautious optimism as he skirted the mud pile and started back down the passageway. The air was becoming colder which could mean the warm air of the barrow was escaping, so maybe they could as well. One of those Mud-Elementals had tried to try to block their way, which could mean this way was worth blocking. And was that a gleam of white?

"Is that snow?" Blake asked, feeling his pace quicken as he noticed this.

"Looks like it, a way out?"

"Could be, and if snow is drifting down here it must be quite a wide opening."

"Or… it could be that," Neeshka replied with a grimace as they entered the chamber at the end of the passageway.

Blake stopped and looked, this chamber was thick with snow and was cold but there was no opening in its walls. Scattered about in the snow were little piles of … things… and swirling towards them was something Blake had never seen but recognised from the bestiaries he had studied.

"What is it?" Neeshka whispered.

"An Orglash," Blake replied, just as quietly. "A spirit of air and winter."

"Hells! That explains the snow and the cold."

"This one must tell you that you are not welcome here," the Orglash said, stopping just far enough away to not draw an attack. "This one must also tell you to disturb nothing or this one must kill you. This one is sorry."

"We just want to find a way out," Blake replied, not intimidated.

"Besides it doesn't look like that stuff is nice enough to take anyway," Neeshka frowned lightly, casting a practised eye over the piles, "why are you even bothering to guard scraps of bone?"

"This one must guard the sacred Rashemi offerings and let none disturb them. Such are the terms of this one's punishment."

"Punishment?" Blake asked. This spirit did not seem hostile, and if it was being punished then perhaps it would be willing to help against those punishing it.

"This one woke Okku from his slumber and for his mischief is bound to this place for one hundred years," the Orglash said, continuing to talk despite having told them they were unwelcome. "This one's freedom will come in fifty-seven years, when this one is destroyed, or when this one is made to serve a master."

Blake slowly nodded. "What do you know of this Okku?"

"Okku is lord of this place," the Orglash replied, its swirling form perhaps shuddering as it remembered. "His rage was terrible when he was awoken and he is very powerful and very angry in his wrath."

That did not sound promising but it was better to be forewarned. This could be a hard fight, and it did not sound like talking would work if Okku was that full of rage when he woke. Neeshka sidled closer to Blake's side and raised herself slightly onto her tiptoes to whisper into his ear as he tilted his head to her lips. "Ask about the master part."

Blake nodded, he had noticed but that was still a good suggestion. "What was that you said about a master?"

"This one shall be bound to its master, go where he goes, for the remainder of this one's sentence," the Orglash said, what could be hope entering its voice. "This one finds such servitude preferable to this place. Command this one to serve and it shall be so."

Blake hesitated, Orglashes were reputedly rather fickle so this might be an unreliable servant but it would be better than having to destroy it. That it wanted him to take it into his service did explain why it had not attacked, the Orglash had been working towards 'revealing' it could be commanded to serve and thus escape. An idea occurred to Blake and he nodded to the Orglash. "Then let it be so, I command you to serve me."

The Orglash swirled more violently as it condensed and vanished. Blake felt a shiver run up his side as the belt pouch the Red Wizards had left him was suddenly no longer empty and became very cold. Blake shifted the pouch around and, examining it, pulled out a strange crystal, glad he had gauntlet leather rather than bare fingers against it.

"Certainly shrunk down a lot," Neeshka commented.

"And still very cold," Blake replied, feeling his fingers start to hurt a little, "but there is a simple solution."

"Ooooh, I love it when you try to be devious," Neeshka grinned. "You are such a village boy it's always so cute the things you come up with."

Blake was not sure whether to be insulted by being called a village boy or pleased Neeshka thought it was cute, but rather than consider this at length he just bent and stuffed the crystal into the heart of one of the offering piles. "There," he said, straightening up and flexing his fingers to get more feeling back into them, "we didn't need to fight it, it gets to stay here for the rest of its sentence, and I don't get a cold side or hip where that pouch presses against it."

Neeshka shook her head at Blake, her grin widening before she started digging through the offering piles. Blake watched his sweetheart as she nimbly sorted through each pile in turn; leaving them thoroughly examined but her fingers so deft they looked undisturbed. The only thing she seemed to take was a single shiny ring.

"It said these were offerings didn't it?"

"Yep, though these spirits must be easily pleased," Neeshka complained, "not one nice thing here…"

"Neeshka," Blake said, remembering the ring.

"Sorry," Neeshka replied with an apologetic smile, "force of habit, I meant… only one nice thing here. No other gems or jewellery or gold."

"I'd certainly rather see you wearing fine jewellery than scraps of bone," Blake said, falling prey to Neeshka's smile again.

Neeshka wiggled her eyebrows at Blake with a leer. "Were you thinking I'd be wearing anything else?"

"Hopefully a smile," Blake replied, returning the friendly leer and teasing tone, "but as I was going to say, if these are what the spirits like then maybe we can appease them."

"Can't hurt, might at least make it easier to stab them if they are not expecting it."

"Cynical, but true," Blake agreed with a nod, moving across to one pile and looking in a bag that was on top of it. "This satchel seems to have bits of bone and what looks to be tinder, maybe burn it?"

"Could be smelly, though not as smelly as a zombie being hit by one of your fire spells… so what the Hells. We can try."

They were able to move swiftly back to the chamber through which Neeshka had entered the barrow. No more spirit animals formed out of patches of light and no more Barrow Guardians extruded themselves from the wall to block their way. Blake looked around the chamber and nodded. "Right," Blake said dubiously, "this hollowed out tree stump looks a good place to put a fire."

"Good a place as any, but what if nothing happens?"

"Then we might have to see if we are both wrong about the spirits not being able to get angrier. Smashing those bones might enrage them enough to bring whatever is maintaining that barrier out where we can kill it."

"That would be a big bear," Neeshka said, gesturing at the bones, "and we don't have the tree-worshipper to turn into a lady bear and divert it."

Blake bit back a laugh before managing to reply. "I don't _think_ that's what they mean by a Druid's intimate bond with nature…"

Neeshka just grinned unrepentantly as Blake moved across to the tree stump and placed the offering pouch in it. She had never liked Elanee and saw no reason to stop mocking her just because she wasn't there, and especially since Blake seemed more relaxed about it. However much her harbour-boy, and he was _her_ harbour-boy, had said he understood and respected the Druidess' reasons to return to the Mere he'd have been more likely to frown than to laugh before. Making a joking comment of his own rather than trying to play peacemaker would have been almost unthinkable.

With a twitch of magic Blake ignited the pouch and thick smoke billowed up from it. He hurriedly stepped back, coughing and waving his hand in front of his face, wearing an expression similar to when he'd found Grobnar had tried to cook and then got distracted by trying to compose a song about cooking. Though even that smoke had smelled nicer than this despite Grobnar's strange choice of ingredients.

"Ack, that is worse than I thought it would be," Blake whinged. "A lot of smoke and a lot of pungency to it."

Neeshka sneezed despite her pretty nose having blood of the lower planes where bad smells were common. "Maybe fighting a giant bear wouldn't have been so bad after all," she replied with a sniff. "Still…seems to have worked."

Blake nodded and led the way out through where the soil had fallen away and re-opened the passage. Even he was not sure whether this was to place himself between Neeshka and the dangers ahead or to get away from the smell as soon as possible. This was only a short curving passageway and led straight to another opening in the wall, but this one had no stonework around it and the earth ramp past it led upwards. Blake gave a suspicious look up this ramp before starting to climb with Neeshka behind and below him and wishing her harbour-boy didn't have so much armour over his cute arse.

"Tree roots?" Blake commented as they emerged back onto the flat. That showed they were relatively near the surface though how close they were depended on how large the trees were. If they'd grown in Crossroad Keep the roots of some ancient giants would almost reach down to the river at the base of the hill.

"Well spotted harbour-boy, we are getting close to the exit. Just have to hope what was by it hasn't woken up."

"What do you mean?"

"The bear skeleton right by the entrance was even larger than the one we just passed. Now call me silly, and it does seem silly to put your most important bones right by the way in and out… I mean, it would have made some jobs so much easier if they'd left things by the door or window…."

Blake kissed his fingers and then pressed them against Neeshka's lips as she started to babble slightly. He smiled fondly at her before replying. "You're saying the bear-god, the one who is grumpy when he wakes up, might be between us and fresh air… Ow."

Neeshka smiled, showing the sharp teeth she had just nipped the ends of Blake's fingers with to unseal her lips. "Could be," she agreed as Blake looked at the faint toothmarks in the thin leather of his gauntlet fingers, "but I'm not letting any walking rug hurt you."

"If it hurts you," Blake replied, his hand clenching automatically into a fist, "there won't be enough left of it to _be_ a rug."

"Seems a waste," Neeshka commented with a wink, "but love you harbour-boy."

They had only moved a short distance when Neeshka gestured for Blake to stop. Blake looked at her enquiringly as she leaned closer. "Let me go ahead and see," Neeshka muttered.

"I…" Blake started to protest before common sense reminded him Neeshka could move far quieter without him.

Reluctantly, not wanting to let her out of his sight, Blake nodded and Neeshka crept forward while Blake watched anxiously. She threw one glance and a cheery wink over her shoulder as she rounded the corner, but then she was gone. Blake laughed silently at himself as he realised he must be worried. He was sure Neeshka had moved with the same grace that normally he appreciated but this time he had been too concerned to notice. Time dragged by and Blake's confidence that he'd have heard some noise if Neeshka had been caught or seen began to erode and be replaced by the urge to go after her.

"Boo!" Neeshka said playfully.

Blake jumped, his sword coming out of its scabbard and into his hand as he whirled. Neeshka giggled, tears coming to her eyes as she pointed at Blake and then bent in the middle slightly as she suppressed the giggle-fit and fought for breath. It only took a few seconds before she straightened up and, dabbing at the tears with a finger, gave Blake a brilliant grin he found hard to resist.

"Nice reactions," Neeshka said, calming down.

Blake tried to look stern, to think about the risk Neeshka had taken rather than how happy her being happy made him. "I could have…"

"No you couldn't," Neeshka interrupted. "Like I said, nice reactions, as in I know you wouldn't just strike wildly." For a moment Blake just looked at her. He really was not sure if her faith in him was justified, if she could rely on him always taking the extra split-second to judge where to place the blow or in this case to judge to not place it anywhere. Neeshka looked back at him and wondered whether Blake would ever trust himself as much as she trusted him, and whether he'd get all conceited if he did. "Anyway," she said, ending the mutual staring. "Good news and bad news. Good news is your sexy Tiefling is back without being spotted, bad news is that there's a very colourful looking bear spirit with an extremely grumpy expression in front of us."

"Do you think you could get past it with…"

"With you trying to sneak as well?" Neeshka interrupted peevishly. "That _was_ what you were going to say, I know you would _not_ end that sentence 'without me'."

Blake took a deep breath and nodded slightly. "Of course… trying to ensure your safety at the expense of mine would not be something you'd favour."

"Better believe it harbour-boy," Neeshka muttered.

"Let's explore around a little more, we might be near enough the surface that if a tree has fallen it might have ripped some soil free with it. Or there could have been a landslide, or just something that would let us avoid fighting a foe described as a god."

"No skin off my horns," Neeshka smiled, "more exploring means more loot."

Unfortunately although Tymorra blessed Neeshka with luck with finding a few more chests that was to no great advantage. Even with how prettily she could pout Blake remained, fairly, firm over not taking too much from the barrow proper and there were no clues that might lead them to an exit their searching had not revealed. Examining a wall in the final chamber they'd found Blake shook his head at the sense of magic about even the normal looking walls in this barrow.

"No other exits," Blake smiled tiredly at Neeshka, "and even if we could dig quietly enough for this Okku to not hear I think the magic of this barrow would resist our digging and betray that attempt to him."

Neeshka smiled back but that only fuelled the flush of anger that suddenly seeped up Blake's neck and down his arms. He had accepted death for himself when he had been helpless and seen the Gargoyle coming for him. It felt much less acceptable though to risk death for Neeshka against an enemy as powerful as this Okku must be and he had to damp down his rage at the situation. At least against the King of Shadows they had not been alone and, as terrible as the need would have been, Zhjave had been a powerful enough cleric to be able to return people from death. There was nothing Blake could do now though; there was no other way out of this barrow and there was no way to prevent Neeshka staying by his side other than trying to tie her up or knock her out.

"Together against a Bear-God then?" Blake reluctantly sighed.

"Together against anything," Neeshka affirmed, glad that her harbour-boy was not going to waste time trying to stop her coming with him.

Blake hesitated and then pulled his helmet off. Neeshka had just enough time to give him a puzzled glance before he dropped the helmet and closed the distance between them with two quick strides. Neeshka's 'eep' of surprise as she was crushed to her harbour-boy's body was muffled as Blake's lips covered hers and drew her into a rough passionate kiss. For a moment she wondered if her earlier fantasy about being pushed up against a wall was coming true, if Blake had decided this might be their last chance and it, and she, needed to be taken but then she felt his lips lift and him release her.

Neeshka ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, savouring how they felt more sensitive after that 'punishment' and smiling as she saw the look of chagrin on Blake's face as he bent to pick his helmet back up. She wouldn't love him if he was the sort to want to hurt a woman but there was a lot of leeway between abuse and being treated as if you would break under all but the most delicate touch. Her luck with men had not been that good but now she had a harbour-boy she was not going to let him get away with only playing one tune on his Tiefling.

Unaware of Neeshka's thoughts Blake hurriedly dusted his helmet off and crammed it onto the chainmail hood that covered ears turning purple with embarrassment. She deserved better than to be treated with such lack of consideration. It would be easy to blame the hunger Blake could still feel within him, but this had not reacted at all to the kiss so he knew the impulse had come purely from him and the failure was his. Not trusting himself to speak Blake led the way back down the passage, followed by an amused rather than offended Neeshka. She stayed close to him as they moved the short distance and Blake strode into the chamber of the bear-god with more confidence than he felt. There was indeed a grumpy though colourful bear-spirit awaiting them but what Neeshka had not mentioned was that its, his, jaws looked large enough to engulf Blake's entire chest in one bite. Even if this had been a bear of flesh rather than spirit-magic Blake would have bet on him in a fight against either, or even both, of the pair of Black Dragons they had fought.

"What stirs the air and smells so foul?" Okku rumbled, glaring at them with yellow eyes. "Go back… and die in the silence and the dark. I am tired and ill of temper."

"Smells so foul?" sneered Neeshka, before Blake could reply with something more placating. "You could put a Hezrou to shame, and that is without your fur getting damp."

"Graaaah," Okku growled, becoming even more ill of temper at this insolence. "Your blood of the lower planes is almost pleasant compared with what I sense in your companion, but it shall spill all the same."

"Wait," said Blake, trying to emulate _The Lord of Song _Milil rather _The Lord of Battle _Tempus. It had likely been too late for eloquent words even before Neeshka and Okku had exchanged insults but Blake felt the need to at least try. "I have no argument with you. Red Wizards brought me here so my presence is not of my choosing. I ask you to allow me to pass and I will go in peace and with gratitude."

"I do not make bargains. Not in my own den. Not after what you have done since your arrival. Bare your throat if you desire peace and I will give it to you. I know what you are little one; I smell the hunger that wakes in you."

"Like I _care_ what you smell," sneered Neeshka again. "Try biting him and I'll wear your teeth as a necklace."

"Perhaps I misjudged you Tiefling, your love outweighs your heritage," Okku grumbled, looking as if he preferred plain threats to Blake's attempt at diplomacy. His snarl deepened. "But neither will save you. Enough words! By the oath I swore you will not leave my den!"

There was a slight hiss of blade over metal scabbard-guard as Blake matched Okku's glare and drew his sword. This creature had threatened and insulted Neeshka and refused to listen. He had the right to wish for vengeance after what had happened to that spirit wolf, but Blake felt that vengeance should be directed towards the Red Wizards who had instigated this.

"Then we will leave over your corpse 'god of bears'," Blake replied, managing to get almost as much disdain into his voice as Ammon Jerro would have managed.

Okku moved, great hindquarters thrusting him forward and a paw with claws as long as Blake's hand swiping around. Blake dodged, there would be no parrying or blocking that sort of blow, and flicked his sword out and across Okku's shoulder. This was a fast strike rather than, like Okku's, having much weight or power behind it, but it was still an unpleasant surprise for Blake to see and feel it barely cut in. The wound shimmered and the edges of it knitted back together as Okku roared and turned slightly to follow Blake's movements. Blake feinted a few times and managed to keep Okku's attention long enough to give Neeshka an opening. She stabbed in at Okku's waist from slightly behind him, aiming for the soft spot between ribcage and hip. The tip of the rapier started to enter Okku's body but then seemed to go no further, the momentum of the attack instead causing it to skitter to one side in a long shallow cut and taking Neeshka slightly off balance as her thrust became a slice.

Whirling in his own body length Okku snapped his huge jaws at Neeshka who barely hopped back of range. The wound on his side was still shimmering and knitting together as Blake tried to open another on the bear-god. Blake's sword barely cut into the 'meat' of Okku's thigh; he'd hoped to slow him but this was too shallow a wound to do this even had he still been flesh rather than a spirit. Blake readied himself for Okku's counterattack but rather than turn again and leave himself between the two Okku sprang instead at Neeshka.

Neeshka flung herself out of the way as a bear-god landed where she had just been; his massive claws gouging furrows in the dirt rather than in her. For a moment she was down on one knee and one hand, but she almost seemed to bounce as she flexed like a cat landing to bring her back onto her feet, her tail swishing behind her in counterbalance to her body. Neeshka continued moving and closer to Blake who had started moving to help her. Given a moment to think he'd have said it was unlikely Okku would have managed to hit Neeshka, and unlikely she'd have slipped in dodging, but he hadn't had that moment and even if he had 'unlikely' was not the same as 'impossible'.

"Are we hurting him?" asked Neeshka quietly, as they backed away slightly.

"Hurting him yes," Blake replied equally quietly as Okku turned, slowly padding forward to close the distance again, "and hopefully also wearing him down with having to reform his wounds."

Neeshka nodded to this as the pair of them began to drift apart a little, trying to get round to either flank of Okku. If they could keep seesawing him between them, one attacking and then the other, then they might be able to wear him down. Okku shifted his glare one way then the other as he watched their motions and then he roared.

"Spirits- to me!" Okku commanded. "Battle calls!"

Around the edges of the chamber lights appeared and began to condense into spirit-animals. Noting this Neeshka gave him an expression of disgust, what sort of God needed help fighting mortals?

"Wimp!"

"Graaahhhhhh!" Okku roared at the impudent Tiefling. "I shall rend you limb from limb."

Blake glanced around, judging distances and gathering some arcane power as he chanted. A moment after Okku's followers finished forming Blake completed his spell of _Firebrand _and a ball of flame formed in front of him to split and streak out into the new spirits and Okku. The god-of-bears shrugged this off but the other spirits seemed staggered as the smaller balls struck them. Blake turned and swung his sword up and around as he did, the tip passing through what would have been above head height on a human but was across the throat of the spirit-bear rearing up to crush him with a bear-hug. To Blake's relief this cut much further into that spirit's neck than it likely would on Okku, slicing it open to what would have been its spine to send its form swirling and vanishing.

Neeshka had a different problem; a spirit-badger was attacking her and it was so low slung she couldn't get at throat or chest as it snapped at her. A moment's thought and she stabbed it deftly in the eye. It screamed and thrashed its head about, trying to shake away the pain but also rearing up enough to expose the front of its chest. Another quick precise thrust from Neeshka pierced where its heart would have been in the moment it was exposed. Neeshka danced back out of range of the death throes and spared a glance for Blake.

"Watch out!" Neeshka called as the spirit-badger's form dissolved into a swirl of energy.

Blake reacted, barely getting his kite-shaped shield in line to take some of the impact and managing to just about roll with the blow without losing his footing. Like his sword his shield was imbued with magic, but Okku's claws still scored lines across its face. Blake staggered backwards slightly as Okku pressed his advantage and then fear, but not for himself, for Neeshka, came to his face as he saw her move. She rushed forward and stabbed at Okku, looking as if she was aiming to geld him. If that was her intent she missed, but Okku roared and was distracted from Blake as Neeshka's rapier plunged into the meat of his haunches.

A spirit-wolf sprang at Neeshka as she pulled her sword back from the hurried blow, trying to catch her off balance and bite at the back of her neck. Unfortunately for it Blake had regained his balance and had enough time to mutter another spell. A beam of magical energy streaked across the chamber and into it in mid spring. The _Disintegrate _was sufficiently strong and the spirit-wolf sufficiently weak that the spell blasted it apart at the waist, the two halves of it swirling and vanishing before they could thump to the floor.

Still distracted by the agony of having almost been gelded Okku had turned his body and head slightly in following the path of the beam and in looking behind himself at Neeshka. Blake took advantage of this to swing a short powerful blow at Okku's head, aiming for just behind the jaw where it joined the neck. This was a good solid hit, not cutting as deep as Blake hoped but deep enough and quite precisely placed. Okku snarled and faced Blake more fully again, the width of his great head almost hiding that this wound was shimmering and knitting back together slightly slower than those they'd inflicted before.

Trusting Blake to keep Okku busy Neeshka concentrated on preventing the other spirits from aiding him. Another spirit-wolf sprang at her, though whether to go for her throat or to just get her out of the way Neeshka was not sure. Either way she simply sidestepped and then brought her sword-arm across so the blade on that leather-padded and metal-backed bracer laid the spirit-wolf's back open from hackles almost to tail as it passed. A rapier needed a bit of space to be effective and, though Neeshka would rather retreat to get enough room again, she did appreciate her harbour-boy's gift having a blade for really close in work.

The harder Blake pressed Okku the more sluggish the bear-god became. It was strange, Blake thought, he was the mortal so it should be him that was getting tired. Again and again Blake's sword dabbed out in short stabs and slashes at Okku's fearsome face, causing him to flinch to protect eyes and nose and keeping him off balance and reacting to what Blake was doing. Okku howled as his nose was scratched, no deeper than the wound a cat might inflict in warning on an overcurious dog, but still painful as sword magic discharged into it.

The last of Okku's allies, a spirit-badger, charged at Neeshka to try to aid its god. She nimbly sidestepped and then jumped as it passed, for one moment both her feet were on its back, her legs flexing as she rode it as if standing on a log floating down a turbulent stream. It barely noticed her slight weight but then she stabbed down at the back of its head, where spine would join skull in a creature of flesh, and leapt again continuing her motion across it. Neeshka flung her sword-arm out to one side as she rolled through the landing and back onto her feet. If she landed wrong she could hurt that extended arm, but better that than risking falling on her own blade. As Neeshka quickly turned she was glad to see she had struck true; the spirit-badger was swirling and vanishing rather than charging at her.

Okku swung one mighty paw and Blake saw a chance to do the same to the bear-god as he had to the King of Shadows. Rather than dodge he met the paw with the edge of his sword as they swung in opposite directions. Blake pain jar up his arm as the shock of the impact travelled through elbow and shoulder and his arm was driven back against the force of his swing. For a moment Blake felt his sword slipping from his hand and he barely managed to hang on to it as he staggered back a few steps. Okku roared as he put some weight on his slightly mangled paw and quickly drew it back up off the ground. There was a shimmering around it, so it was healing, but for now Okku was limping on three legs.

Blake adjusted his grip on his sword and got his shield back in position. While Okku was limping he was slowed and he'd need to rear up on his hind legs to swing with his good forepaw. That would be a more powerful attack, as it would have his weight behind it as he came back down, but easier to dodge. Okku roared again as Blake started forward, anger rather than pain fuelling his voice. Blake started twitching his sword, the dim light glinting off the blade that was still shiny and clean as spirits left no gore to coat it. Okku's eyes followed these movements but, though he was furious, he was not yet driven stupid with rage. Rather than allow himself to be distracted by Blake's efforts he turned and shuffled backwards slightly, placing the approaching Neeshka to one side of him rather than giving her another chance to stab him in the rear.

As their eyes met Blake nodded slightly to Neeshka. They had wounded the bear-god and he was not healing as fast now; if they could keep pressing the attack there was a chance of victory. Okku's great head tilted back and forth slightly as he glanced between his two smaller foes and he smelt their growing confidence. He would not be defeated in his own den so silently he called, snarling to try to keep their attention on him. Blake twitched as, despite the attempted distraction, he saw more lights start to appear around the chamber. There was a chance that if those were more spirit-animals that they would be tougher and, even if they were not, they would give Okku time to gather his strength by their sacrifice. It seemed there was not much time so throwing caution to the wind Blake charged. Okku hesitated a split-second in surprise and then threw himself to meet this, ignoring the pain in his healing paw as that along with his others dug into the soft soil floor.

"Harbour-boy!" Neeshka had just time to exclaim before he and Okku met.

Blake's sword stabbed forward and embedded itself deep in one side of Okku's chest, but Okku twisted slightly and made the thrust too far off centre to strike anything vital. Instead it wedged itself in what would have been the meat between Okku's skin and ribcage. Blake felt his arm being driven back to his side but then the centre of Okku's chest met his shield and he was bowled over backwards. Blake let out an 'oof' as his back hit the dirt floor and Okku's weight pressed down on him, trapping his shield and shield-arm between his chest and Okku's. At least the dirt had been soft enough to cushion this landing a little and Blake was glad his elbow-guard had dug into it. He'd managed to keep hold of his sword, but that could have hurt without that extra inch of room between elbow and wrist.

Okku's weight shifted about as he tried to bring his huge jaws down to bite at something so close to his own chest. Blake squirmed a little as he tried to see how much leverage he could get to twist his sword where it was embedded in Okku but, trapped as it was between hilt and floor, he could barely move his sword-arm. Okku made a couple of experimental snaps at Blake's head as Blake released his sword and tried to reach his dagger. Fortunately for Blake there was a little room between his shield and the floor so he was able to just about slide his hand down his side to his waist. If he could get his dagger then he might be able to stab Okku in the eye or the open mouth. Unfortunately for Blake Okku realised this as well and as Blake's fingers closed on the hilt of his dagger Okku shifted his weight again, rolling Blake to one side a little and trapping his sword-arm at his side.

Okku had just time to snarl in satisfaction though before this became a roar of pain. Neeshka had closed the distance and had buried her rapier almost to the basket-hilt in Okku, stabbing into his flank and up beneath what would have been his ribcage. She wrenched it to one side as she pulled it back, risking snapping the slender blade she'd barely had a chance to get used to but widening the wound as it withdrew. Okku turned his head slightly and saw Neeshka's rapier stabbing back at the rear of his head. He had no choice but to shift his weight again as he moved his head to turn this sword-thrust into only a glancing blow along one cheek.

Blake took the opportunity. Okku was more than distracted as Neeshka continued to flick her sword at his eyes, like a bird pecking at a cat with its chick between its paws, and the bear-god had shifted his weight enough that, with a heave, Blake freed his sword-arm again. If Okku were not distracted he'd have simply bounced his weight on Blake, squashing the breath out of his lungs and disrupting his words, but thanks to Neeshka Blake managed to finish the incantation. Flame sprang up around him as he created an _Elemental Shield_.

Okku drew back a little, more in surprise than because the flames were of much threat to him. Blake grabbed at the hilt of his sword where it still jutted from Okku's chest and a feral noise of satisfaction escaped his lips as he found he now had enough room to be able to twist it. Okku snarled back and then started to rear back onto his hind legs, both to avoid Neeshka's attempt to stab him in the temple and to crush the still prone Blake under one paw as he came back down. Blake did not let go of his sword though, letting Okku drag him up off the floor as Blake's weight dragged the edge of the blade down through Okku a little. Then there was a clank and a thump as Blake landed back on the floor and winded himself slightly. Okku had suddenly vanished and without the support the bear-god had been supplying through his sword he'd been seriously off balance. Standing Blake coughed a few times more as he got his breath back and looked around before he trusted himself to speak.

"Damn…" Blake said, insightfully.

"Where did it go?" Neeshka demanded, eyes darting around and tail still swishing in agitation.

"I think he escaped," Blake replied, "so no new necklace for you, and he might rebuild his strength and attack us again."

Neeshka pouted sadly, but with a twinkle in her eye. "No new necklace?"

"No new necklace of bear-god teeth," Blake chuckled, "but once we find a merchant…"

"I suppose I can settle for gold and jewels," Neeshka said, her mock pout breaking into a grin, "rather than smelly teeth on a string."

"I know, I know," Blake replied deadpan as he headed towards the exit that had unsealed itself with Okku's disappearance, "such sacrifices I ask of you."

Neeshka giggled and followed. It was only a short extra climb and both of them found fatigue fleeing as they smelt fresh air and saw the stars ahead of them. Blake glanced up at the stars to get some idea of what way they were facing and then down at the map, which Neeshka had unfolded and was holding, what looked like, a Ring of Scholars over. By the bright white light of the ring, designed to help study in dimly lit libraries, Blake studied the map a little and then the skies. He hoped the map and his memory of the constellations were both accurate and that Rashemen's skies were not too different from those above the Sword Coast.

"That way?" Blake pointed.

"Looks good to me," agreed Neeshka.

Blake led the way and to his relief Shaundakul seemed to smile on that exploring and they did find what seemed to be the road they were aiming for. _'Thank you for blessing our exploration of this land unknown,'_ Blake silently prayed, _'May you also bless our travel down this road and, if possible, allow us the fortune to find a portal to ease our journey onwards.'_ Neeshka frowned at him as he paused but with a smile of reassurance Blake started along the roughly cobbled surface towards Mulsantir. They travelled in silence for an hour or so as they both wanted to be able to hear if something was moving in the darkness and they wanted their breath for travelling fast rather for speaking. Eventually Blake slowed as they reached a bridge far wider than the stream over which it flowed. Clambering down the shallow bank Blake uttered a cantrip to create a light and looked beneath the bridge.

Neeshka followed with a puzzled frown. "What are you doing harbour-boy?" she asked as Blake nodded to himself.

"Looks like this stream swells in heavy rain or the winter thaws, but at the moment there is room between the bridge arch and the water."

"Thinking of camping here? I suppose under a bridge is out of sight of the road, but do you think we're far enough from the barrow?"

Blake glanced back down the road before replying. "I think we travelled far enough fast enough we can take a break. I need to check my chest and we need to check what supplies we have."

Neeshka nodded and with a sigh Blake loosened and slid his shield off his arm, unbuckled his swordbelt from his waist, and sat down and started removing his upper armour. Fortunately it was designed so parts could be removed to check wounds without it needing to all be stripped off, though in some ways Neeshka felt that was a mixed fortune as she'd have preferred Blake to strip more completely. Neeshka kept watch into the darkness as various clinks and clanks and creaks punctuated Blake's progress in undressing. This went quiet though so she glanced back and watched happily as he undid the ties holding padded shirt to padded trousers and then, having loosened the laces at his neck, drew this up and over his head. He took a few deep breaths before speaking.

"Aaaah, it is good to be able to breathe without having these bandages pressing on my chest. Even if my breastplate doesn't normally restrict my breathing there was not really enough room inside it for them."

"Those do look nasty," commented Neeshka, looking a little queasy at the dried blood that had soaked through them.

"Aye," Blake replied, leaning back and pressing his chin on his upper chest to try to look at them. "Can you do me a favour though and cut them away?"

Neeshka gave Blake a frown as she wasn't that squeamish. It was that her harbour-boy had been hurt that upset her rather than being bothered, much, by dried blood and dirty bandages. Deftly Neeshka slid her dagger in under the edge of the bandages, its razor sharp edge easily slicing through the layers of cloth covering one side of Blake's ribs. The bandages visibly loosened as that tension was released and as Neeshka also cut through the strips of cloth coming up over Blake's shoulder on that side. Then Blake brought his hand up to pull the bandages back and off over the other shoulder like a coat, but he hesitated.

"Ready?" Blake asked, looking at Neeshka.

"Of course," Neeshka replied, and he had no excuse to dither any longer.

With one swift movement Blake pulled the bandages away and shrugged them down that arm. Neeshka looked worried as he protested in pain and tears came to his eyes but Blake waved that concern away. He blinked a few times before speaking. "It's okay; just some chest hairs had got stuck to the bandages…" Blake said, musing almost to himself, "so that is what waxing my chest would feel like."

"Could be worse," giggled Neeshka, "think if you were waxing your…"

"I'd rather not think that," Blake replied with a glance down at his lap before he rubbed at his chest.

Neeshka peered at Blake and then went and dampened a cloth in the stream. "Get your hand out the way harbour-boy."

Blake rather enjoyed the sensation as Neeshka rubbed the cloth over his chest. Warmer water would have been even nicer but that this was pleasurable, rather than provoking pain as the cloth passed over where the wound had been, was promising. Neeshka almost resisted the temptation to do more than just a quick clean, but she couldn't stop herself from dipping her head forward to give Blake a quick kiss on the chest as she withdrew the cloth.

"Kissing it better?" asked Blake in pleased surprise.

"Hardly needed it," Neeshka replied, frowning slightly and nibbling lightly at her lower lip. "If it wasn't for all that blood on the bandages I'd not think you had been more than scratched. Well, not more than scratched and nicked several times…they shaved the middle of your chest and it looks like they were not careful about it."

"Aye," said Blake, rubbing his chest again and feeling the change between slightly furry and bald.

Neeshka looked at Blake sitting there and decided that, now she knew his chest had healed and she had cleaned it of dried gunk, a half-naked harbour-boy's lap was incomplete without a Tiefling in it. Blake happily agreed to this by hugging her to him, his bare chest pressing against Neeshka's armour as their lips met. Neeshka rather enjoyed the role reversal, normally it was Blake's chest that was the harder, his muscles against her soft breasts, but despite the novelty she decided she did prefer to not have armour between herself and her harbour-boy. She happily wiggled on his lap as the kiss continued, but then Blake jerked with an 'ow!' and Neeshka sprang back to her feet.

"Are you okay?" Neeshka asked, worriedly looking at Blake's chest where her leather breastplate had rubbed.

"Fine," said Blake, rubbing lower down on his stomach. "We just learned that fine chainmail links can act as tweezers on belly hair."

After a moment staring at him Neeshka giggled in relief and at the expression on Blake's face. He seemed rather irritated at the abrupt end to the snuggling. "One more reason to not kiss in armour," she said once she recovered.

Blake nodded ruefully. "Aye, either both in armour or both out of it."

"Easily solved," grinned Neeshka.

"True," Blake said, reaching for his padded shirt.

"That…wasn't what I meant," said Neeshka, slightly peevishly.

"You intoxicate me," Blake replied. "You fill my every sense with desire. When you are in my arms I can see nothing but you, I care about nothing but you and the passion we are sharing. The smell of you, the taste of you as I kiss you, the way you respond to me and fuel my desire as I fuel yours…" Neeshka blushed slightly and wondered how explicit Blake was going to get. "Which is why I need to get dressed," he concluded after a pause and with very evident reluctance. "We may be being hunted by ghost-animals and the way you affect me I'd not notice their approach… Hells, I'd barely notice if Okku roared in my ear."

"What an image," giggled Neeshka as Blake pulled his padded shirt back on over his head, "you naked and intent on me and Okku roaring away trying to get your attention while you ignore him."

"'Raaahhhh, I'm here to kill you!'" Blake said, dealing with the laces of his shirt.

"'Not now! Not now! Busy!'" replied Neeshka, dropping her voice to match Blake's fairly light one. "'Come back in an hour, no…make that two.'"

Blake chuckled a few times before changing the subject. "How are we for supplies? I'd not packed much as we were portaling straight from Crossroad Keep to the lair of the King of Shadows, and what I did pack has gone missing in my abduction."

"Like your cloak?"

"That I remember snagging and coming off," replied Blake, securing his chainmail, "but they took all my potions and trinkets, and why they took my bow and my quivers of arrows… not that I'd had much need to use it as my magic increased, but…"

Neeshka rooted in the Bag of Holding at her hip and pulled out a shortbow. "The Red Wizard had this," she interrupted, "and if you'd still had your longbow then you'd have not needed to be grateful to her for supplying you with a smaller one."

"That would apply to everything, including my gold. The more dependent I am on her 'generosity' the more grateful I might feel and the better for their plans to manipulate me. Of course, thanks to you, I know they were the ones that stole all that from me so I feel rather the opposite of grateful. I know my bow is either in the paws of a Gnoll or discarded somewhere in Thay."

Neeshka paused in her examination of the contents of her bags to give Blake a puzzled frown and a half-smile. "What is it with you and that bow?"

"I was used to it," Blake replied simply, starting to buckle on Mithril plates, "and there were a lot of memories, that scratch from when we fought that, having it my hand the first time I saw something else…"

"Ah," nodded Neeshka, that actually made a little sense though she'd never been attached to things herself. Aside from the lucky coin she and Leldon had stolen back and forth from each other and which had been one reason he had double crossed her on their last job together.

At the time she had thought that Beshaba's blessing as it had forced her to leave Neverwinter but now she thought it Tymorra's as that bad luck had led to the far greater good luck of meeting her harbour-boy. Worse still if she'd remained a thief in Neverwinter then rather than him meeting and helping her near Fort Locke he might have met her in Neverwinter as a member of the City Watch trying to arrest her. Neeshka was sure there would still have been a spark, but her harbour-boy was sufficiently duty bound he'd have tried to ignore it.

There was silence for a while as Blake finished securing his armour and Neeshka finished checking her supplies. Blake took a couple of deep breaths to feel the difference not having the bandages on made and then stood and picked up the pile of bandages. There was a flat rock in the stream just large enough to dump the bandages on so Blake lobbed them out onto it. The shallow flow of water over the upper surface of this rock was not enough to move the cloths much as the lower part of the pile began to become water logged. Before much water could soak up through the pile though Blake muttered an invocation and hit the bandages with a fireball. Water flashed to steam and cloth turned to ash, and then the flow of the stream resumed and washed the ashes away, the mark on the rock hidden by the water passing over it and the light of the brief fire mostly hidden by the bulk of the bridge.

Neeshka handed Blake one of her magic bags. "Here harbour-boy, emptied this one out into the others."

"Thank you my love," said Blake with gratitude. "At least when they stole my coin-pouch they didn't get much."

"Got some dried rations, some stuff for starting campfires, still got my coin-pouch and we did pick up a few things we can sell, even though you made me leave all those things in those chests alone."

"Just seemed taking things from the Imaskari ruins would enrage spirits a lot less than taking them from the barrow," Blake explained.

"I'm not arguing," Neeshka said, refraining from reminding him that she'd been right their restraint would make no difference. "I just hope we have enough gold. Merchants are inclined to cheat foreigners."

Blake nodded and unbuckled his belt of strength from around his waist and threw it to Neeshka. She caught it with a puzzled frown and then smiled as her expert fingers felt the seams that had been unpicked and restitched, and the extra weight of it. She rubbed her thumbs across the magic-imbued leather and grinned at Blake.

"I did teach you something!" Neeshka exclaimed in delight, throwing the belt back to Blake.

"Taught me a great many things," Blake replied, bucking it back on, "some of them kinkier than others, but aye. Got some coin sewn into my belt, some more in the lining of my boots, and some gold beaten thin and put between the layers of leather my padded shirt has over my kidneys."

"I'm not telling you where I hide my emergency gold," Neeshka giggled. "Something you'll have to find out for yourself."

"Ah, and that would be such a hardship," Blake replied with an exaggerated sigh. "But I suppose if we find a safe room with a lock I could endure slowly stripping you naked to examine every inch of your delectable body."

Neeshka stepped across to Blake and drew him down one-handed into a quick but passionate kiss before retreating again. "Not had any complaints about your endurance so far harbour-boy," she grinned.

Blake smiled. "Or a fairly safe room with a door that can be wedged shut…" he said, lowering his standards.

"Mulsantir had better have an Inn…"

Blake chuckled as he buckled back on his sword belt and slid the straps of his shield back over that forearm. "Certainly a more pleasant reason to want to get there soon than that we might be being hunted."

With that he led the way back out from beneath the bridge and up the shallow slope. Thoughts of what they could do once they reached Mulsantir did help in keeping up a fast pace, but Blake had to be careful to not let those thoughts distract him from his surroundings. At intervals they rested and shared a few dried rations, and a few kisses for luck and the road, but mostly they just padded on, milestone after milestone being left behind them.

Dawn's light brought some relief and let Neeshka's sharp eyes spot a crack in an outcropping of rock they were passing. This led to a small hidden cave that seemed far safer than the roadside shelters they had been ignoring. Once inside Blake and Neeshka looked at each other for a long moment, the temptation each felt evident to the other in their eyes. Blake kept well back from Neeshka, he knew that now they had some privacy he couldn't risk straining his control further by kissing her.

"I take first watch?" sighed Blake.

"Sure," Neeshka said, equally disappointed at having to be sensible.

Neeshka curled up in a corner for a couple of hours sleep while Blake tried to watch out for danger and concentrate on some scrolls and practice rather than dwell on all the pleasant ways he could wake her up. Then it was Blake's turn to nap and Neeshka's to watch and feel frustrated they were safe enough to be tempted but not safe enough to give in. Whether it was the lack of bedrolls or the excess of desire neither slept well and both were glad to leave the cave and get back on the road.


	4. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It took only a few more hours before a walled town became visible and as they approached the city gates Blake frowned slightly. He'd been expecting Mulsantir to be a little more impressive and if a wagon had gone off the road and become stuck in the mud outside Crossroad Keep he'd have sent some Greycloaks to help. These people though seemed happy to let the merchant struggle outside their dreary town.

"A wet and gloomy Mulsantir afternoon to you my foreign friend," the best dressed of the three men around the wagon called, breaking off from giving advice to the other two that they seemed happy to ignore. "You did not, perchance, encounter an army of angry spirits on the road? I don't normally begin conversations this way, but the local shamans aren't usually in such a pique and my wagon isn't usually mired outside the city gates."

"An army of angry spirits?" Blake replied evasively. "Is that common in this land?"

"To be truthful I have no idea," admitted the merchant. "This is a hard country, unkind to foreigners, and I try to keep myself behind as many walls as I can and bide my time until I return home for the season."

"I am seeking a theatre and a woman called Lienna."

"_We_ are seeking an Inn," Neeshka said, correcting Blake's sense of priorities. Blake nodded to her with a smile.

"Then Tymorra has smiled thrice upon you as you will find all three within these walls," replied the merchant. "For the theatre pass through these gates and head straight on to the round ramshackle structure that smells distinctly of garlic and sour wine. For the Inn look towards the river, there is a building that is recognisably built from ship timbers and generally has at least one drunk slumped outside against its walls."

"Most vivid descriptions," Blake nodded, "I am sure I'll not mistake any other buildings for them. And this Lienna, she is generally within the theatre?"

"Indeed," the merchant confirmed before adding, "in fact I have never seen her come out so you are sure to find her there."

"My thanks, friend. You've been a great deal of help."

"Then a blessing has come of my mired wagon, though if I may offer another piece of advice?" the merchant asked. Blake gave an enquiring look and the merchant continued, "I have a selection of warm and, more important, long and hooded cloaks, such as your friend might benefit from wearing within this city."

"Ah, unkind to foreigners…" Blake growled, before turning to Neeshka and saying in a more normal tone, "my sweet, you have pretty horns and a lovely lithe tail, but he could be right."

Neeshka frowned. "If anyone gives me any trouble I can handle them, but the tip of my tail _is_ getting cold…"

"A cloak for the lady, and for the gentleman then?" said the merchant, sensing a sale.

"Indeed," Blake replied, "and my thanks for the warning. We have the skills to defend ourselves, but I know what a poor impression littering the road with the corpses of street-toughs might make."

The merchant gestured for the employee with the least mud on to get a stack of cloaks from the wagon. As the man gathered the cloaks and approached with them piled high in his arms the merchant nodded. "It benefits us both, my friend. You avoid trouble and I make my wagon just that tiny bit lighter and my purse heavier."

Neeshka had moved to meet the approaching man as the merchant spoke and started looking through the cloaks. She grinned slightly as she gently pulled one out of the stack, and then rubbed the soft fur lining against her cheek before looking at Blake with her grin broadening.

"Your lady has a fine eye, that is one of the rarer and most warm and durable pelts…"

"By which you mean expensive…" Blake interjected cynically. Neeshka stuck her tongue out at Blake at this comment. "And of course by expensive I mean nice enough for her," he smoothly continued. "Especially since she's the one whose gold-pouch was not stolen."

For a moment Neeshka looked less enthusiastic as she realised she was paying, and the merchant looked worried as he wondered if these potential customers had enough gold for it to been worth being that helpful and letting them look at the nicer cloaks. Still their armour and weapons did look well crafted, which was another good reason for them to buy concealing cloaks, so they could not be that poor.

"I suppose it would be unkind to insist you get out your emergency gold when I have a pouch handy," Neeshka replied, pouting slightly.

"Also be unkind to offer barter," Blake said, turning to the merchant, "when you are trying to lighten your wagon."

The merchant looked relieved at the mention of emergency gold or barter and, after some brief intense haggling between him and Neeshka, the deal was done. Two fine cloaks for them and a fair amount of gold for him. Neeshka snuggled into her cloak and gave Blake the sort of smile that made him think of roaring fires with that cloak and Neeshka laid out in front of them. The fire casting highlights on her skin as she wriggled to enjoy the feel of the warmth and the soft fur all over her naked body. It was a pleasant fantasy but Blake was annoyed that the practical side of his mind had started to consider the problem of hard floorboards and how many cushions he'd need to make his sweetheart as comfortable as she deserved.

To distract himself from his thoughts Blake turned to the two assistants, both of whom were back at trying to dislodge the wagon. The break caused by one carrying cloaks to Neeshka and the other taking the chance for a short rest did not seem to have revived them much. Clasping the hoodless cloth and leather cloak he'd chosen around him Blake approached and they regarded him without much interest.

"Do either of you have any objection to the arcane?"

The two men exchanged glances, puzzled why this was being asked, and after shrugging at each other the one that had brought the cloaks over replied. "Erm… no?"

"Very well," Blake said, concentrating and making the incantations to infuse them in turn with _Bull's Strength_. The two men straightened up slightly as the power of their muscles was increased, looking both grateful and surprised as a man in full armour did not match their idea of what a Wizard looked like, and he'd said arcane rather than divine so he'd not be a Cleric.

"Thank you!" the one that had stayed by the wagon said.

"No trouble, I hope you get this wagon free."

Blake wandered back towards Neeshka, glad that he'd had those spells prepared. For a long while he had not since he'd managed to find Belts of Strength that did the same or better job but, rather than fading like the spell, did this for as long as they were worn. One day though he'd realised that, generally, when he rested to renew his spells and strength he still had spells within that circle of the arcane unused. Therefore the unused spells might as well be of _Bull's Strength_ as of anything else and he could allow himself the advantage of having those spells prepared in case his belt was damaged or, as in this case, someone needed aid.

"My thanks," said the merchant extending his hand, "Shelvedar Numm."

"Blake Marsh," replied Blake, taking and shaking the hand.

"The Red Knight bless your plans in there."

"And Waukeen bless your business," Blake politely responded, "and Shaundakul your travels."

With that Blake and Neeshka started up the short slope to the gates. Tymorra did seem to be still smiling on them, Blake mused. It had been fortunate that the guards were so lazy or unhelpful or both as if they had been helping with the wagon they would have seen him and his beloved without the concealing cloaks. Blake still tried to not clank too much though as they passed the guard, who welcomed them with a scowl of disdain for outsiders.

"That looks like the Veil," Blake commented quietly, "and past those shut gates… is that an upside down ship?"

"Blast!" muttered Neeshka, glaring at the barrier between them and an Inn room. "Still, better for you to get some answers first so you can concentrate."

"My love," Blake pointed out, "my problem is concentrating on anything else while you are around, not the reverse."

"Maybe," admitted Neeshka, giving Blake a sudden grin, "but if we get some answers then we can celebrate."

Blake chuckled at the idea they needed a reason to 'celebrate' as he wandered over to the market stalls. Neeshka wisely hung back a little behind him so the stallholders could not as easily see her pretty but unusual eyes or under her hood to see her delicate horns. This had required her to hand over her coin pouch, something she would have laughed at the idea of a year ago, but she supposed if she trusted him with her heart then her coin was almost as safe. But only almost since she had not broken Blake of the bad habit of friendly trading and of being inclined to pay too close to the asking price.

Despite his lesser skill at haggling they managed to equip themselves without depleting Neeshka's purse enough to make her pout in annoyance. Blake's caution about taking anything from the actual barrow rather than just the Imiskari ruins meant they did not have as much to sell and he was cautious, again, to not sell anything that seemed too distinctive. But they had found enough to cover what they spent. The Red Wizard's shortbow proved good as part-exchange for a longbow and some extra arrows. There could be a long journey ahead so bedrolls and waterproof cloths for camping, some extra trail supplies, more clothes for if they wanted to change out of armour or at least have fresh underwear, and other sundries seemed wise. A replacement coin pouch for himself let Blake split the proceeds and a hat gave him something to keep sun and rain off. He also felt wearing a hat showed you were not looking to fight, whereas a bare head could mean that or just that like the local guards you simply didn't wear a helmet while killing things.

Thankfully with the Bag of Holding and the more common magic bags they could hold all these supplies without needing to strap things to every part of themselves and have backpacks large enough for a brownie to use as a house. They examined the Veil Theatre as they browsed the market and strolled a little; looking like a happy couple taking a break while they discussed if they needed any more shopping. Largely this was true as Blake was trying to think if they had forgotten anything and, though answers might be within the Veil Theatre, for now he was content to enjoy the weak sunshine and Neeshka's company.

"Looks quiet enough," said Neeshka quietly, pretending to consider and be commenting on a display of fresh fruits. "I'll bet there is a window or back door we can get in."

"You maybe," Blake pointed out just as quietly before buying some fruit and handing one to Neeshka. "But, as loath as I am to let you out of my sight, that might be better than just walking in the front."

Neeshka nodded to him as she chomped into the fruit. Then she smiled from within the shadows of her hood and delicately ran the tip of her tongue over her slightly parted lips. "What?" she asked, eyes twinkling as she saw Blake's gaze follow this. "Just getting a little juice off."

"Good," Blake replied softly, "as tasty as this fruit might be I prefer the taste of your lips. Or of you…"

Before either of them could regret, again, that the gates towards the Inn were shut their happy flirting was interrupted by screams. Merchants and shoppers looked up or around in puzzlement. Blake and Neeshka had already reacted and turned to face where these screams were coming from before most of the people in the marketplace had finished even realising those were screams. Thankfully the bystanders did not seem to notice this unusually fast reaction.

"Hells!" Blake muttered, reaching under his new cloak and starting to unbutton the strap across his sword. "Might have waited so long we'll need to walk in the front anyway."

Neeshka covered his hand with her own and looked seriously into his eyes. "This _isn't_ Neverwinter," she reminded him, "you are not a Knight here, or even a City Watchman, and we _don't_ need to draw attention!"

Blake glanced from her to the door and back and hesitated. He could argue that they needed answers and so needed to investigate, but Neeshka knew him too well. She knew that he was an inveterate busybody when it came to people who might be in need. This was how they had met, someone else might have simply ignored the thugs from Fort Locke disgracing their uniforms rather than intervene to attempt to settle things peacefully. That the thugs had decided to respond to that attempt by trying to kill Blake and Khelgar so they could claim for three 'bandit corpses' rather than one had not been a good first impression for soldiers of Neverwinter to make.

Neeshka rolled her eyes and sighed as she drew her rapier. "Never mind, forgot for a moment who I was talking to," she muttered, "let's hope they are grateful"

Blake cast a few quick spells in preparation and, having swapped hat for chainmail hood and helmet and put his large kite-shaped shield back on his arm, tried the doors and found them unlocked. Leading the way he found, to his annoyance, that among the bales of hay that seemed to serve as audience seats were three Red Wizards and five Gnolls. At least what looked like the theatre staff had been lined up against one wall so they were out of the way.

The Red Wizards and Gnolls had turned as Blake and Neeshka entered. "You should have remained outside," one sneered, "our business is with Lienna, not some _fool_ interloper."

"I have business with Lienna too," Blake replied, "so explain yourself wizard."

"Your voice is filled with desperation stranger," the Red Wizard said, seemingly unable to tell that from annoyance. "Don't worry; we'll make your death quicker than Lienna's might be."

"Do I look worried?" Blake asked rhetorically, giving up on speech other than to mutter an invocation and plant a _Scintillating Sphere_ in the Red Wizards face.

As the Red Wizard convulsed from the electricity and fell Neeshka shrugged off her heavy cloak and sprang at the nearest Gnoll. He was still trying to recover from his surprise at Blake's spell when Neeshka's rapier carved through his throat. Another Gnoll swung his heavy hammer at Neeshka but she nimbly hopped back out of range so the Gnoll wasted the force of his swing on empty air. As he stumbled slightly forward he howled and stumbled back again as Neeshka bounced on her toes and kicked him in the muzzle.

Blake would have admired this grace but he was busy. The axe of the Gnoll attacking him thudded into the curved wall of the theatre as it, and the hand that had been holding it, continued in the direction of the blow the Gnoll had swung and which Blake had met with his sword. The Gnoll looked down at his wrist where the blade had sheered though bone and tendon and where his hand used to be, and then stopped looking at anything as Blake brought his sword back. This backswing met the Gnoll's unarmoured head at eye level, shaving a fraction of an inch off the top of his muzzle as the tip of Blake's sword cut through eye and skull and brain.

"Attack together, attack together!" a Red Wizard ordered, rather frantically as he looked at the three corpses.

The Gnolls growled and shuffled into a formation as Neeshka rejoined Blake and Blake looked at the Gnolls and considered a spell.

"No! Stupid mutts!" the Red Wizard added, giving Blake a glance. "Not that close together, you could all be caught by the same Sphere!"

The Gnolls grumbled some more as they moved apart a little but Blake had to avoid giving them warning with a smile as he saw they had not moved far enough. He might not be able to catch them with the same '-ball', whether of fire or sound or acid or electricity, but they were still close enough together for one of his favourite spells. Blake uttered the invocation in the magical tongue and, as in the barrow, a ball of fire formed in front of him before splitting into individual balls that streaked away and into the Gnolls. The scent of burning fur was unpleasant but Blake was happy to see the Red Wizard that had been chivvying the Gnolls had been close enough to be caught by the _Firebrand_ as well.

Neeshka had recognised what Blake was casting and had been ready to act the moment her harbour-boy finished. With her reflexes and speed her attack was only an instant behind the impact of the spell. Neeshka brought the tip of her rapier down across one Gnoll's belly in what looked almost like a gentle brush. For a moment nothing seemed to have happened, then the fur and the flesh beneath split apart from just below the plate of metal covering the Gnoll's heart to just above his groin as his movement, and their weight, forced his guts out through the long clean cut.

Blake aimed for much the same target, but with less finesse and a little slower. _Firebrand_ might be a favoured enough spell for Neeshka to recognise it but, even with practice, he still needed to pause a fraction to shift his concentration back from spellcasting to swordsmanship. As the Red Wizard screamed and beat at his burning robes Blake strode forward. The Gnolls were not armoured at their waists and his swing drove his sword deep into the Gnoll's side, just above the hip, the physical wound worsened by the magic on his blade. As Blake drew his sword back through the wound the edge sliced even deeper and the Gnoll collapsed, rapidly soaking the dirt floor of the theatre with blood from the severed major vessels that had been feeding the muscles of his leg.

Neither Gnoll was dead, yet, but they were out of the fight. Blake caught Neeshka's eye and they nodded to each other briefly. The last Gnoll had recovered a little and, snarling, padded towards Neeshka. Blake glanced at this and decided his sweetheart could handle one Gnoll long enough for him to finish one thing before helping. The Red Wizard's robes had finally stopped burning, but Blake knew the burns to his chest and to his hands where he had struck at the flames would be painful. Before this pain could really register Blake swept his sword around at his shoulder level, which was neck level on the slightly shorter Red Wizard. One of the theatre staff, Blake was confident it was one of the two men, squeaked as the force of this forehand blow sent the decapitated head bouncing across the floor to roll to a stop at their feet.

Turning to help Neeshka Blake realised he had been mistaken to think Neeshka would need this help. Blood was dripping from the Gnoll's wrist where Neeshka had sliced across the back of it and severed the tendons holding the Gnoll's hand shut on its weapon. The Gnoll was still trying to bash Neeshka with his shield and try to slow her down for him to bite at her with his impressive teeth. Neeshka avoided that shield swipe with almost contemptuous ease and stabbed her rapier out and into the Gnoll's open mouth. Unfortunately, unlike the spirit-animal, the Gnoll had a thick skull and for a second Neeshka had to tug hard to free her blade.

The third Red Wizard had finally realised she was going to have to sully her hands with casting combat magic and saw her chance. Rather slowly compared with Blake's battle practiced ease she recited the magic words and cast a _Lesser Missile Storm_. Blake rushed across as he saw her casting and tried to shield Neeshka from this attack. The magical missiles curved out from the Red Wizard, separating too widely for Blake to block them all but his presence was enough to help. Each missile of the storm would target an enemy so Blake being there meant, according to random chance, half of them would hit him rather than Neeshka.

As it turned out Blake was either fortunate or unfortunate as only one missile 'leaked' past him to strike at Neeshka. His armour did have some proofing against magical energy but Blake still grunted as the missiles struck and discharged and some of their power seeped through his armour into him. Neeshka heard this grunt and this, and the slight pain from the one missile hit, gave her legs extra spring as she pounced from out behind Blake and towards the Red Wizard. Her enemy had just enough time to look surprised before Neeshka buried her rapier through the centre of her chest and her heart. For a moment the two looked at each other before Neeshka drew her arm and blade back and stepped away as the Red Wizard fell flat on her face and died.

Blake glanced around the theatre, at the shocked looking staff and at the fallen Red Wizards and Gnolls. He stabbed his sword down and through the neck of the Gnoll Neeshka had gutted, giving him a quick death rather than let him continue to twitch and bleed from his mouth and slowly die. Seeing the mess they had made Blake felt it was fortunate the floor of this theatre was dirt that could be dug out and replaced. Blake shook his sword off a little to dislodge the larger drops of blood and then wiped it before hooking the now bloodstained cloth to his belt. Its magic made it self-cleaning but sometimes it could take a while to catch up with how it had been dirtied.

"Fortunate they underestimated us, praise Tymorra," Blake commented quietly to Neeshka, as the theatre staff continued to stare, "the Red Wizards thought their Gnolls could deal with the killing so they were slow to 'waste' their magic on us."

"Looks like the Red Wizards were not the only ones surprised," replied Neeshka, nodding at the theatre staff.

This nod seemed to break the lady Dwarf in the centre of the group out of her daze. Picking her way carefully around the blood soaked dirt and parts of Red Wizard and Gnolls she approached Blake and Neeshka. Blake looked down at her, his armour with a few patches of gore and his sword not entirely wiped clean, and tried to not look too suspicious and intimidating.

"A more timely entrance I've never seen, in forty years of theatre," the lady Dwarf said with a slightly nervous smile. "Lienna told us visitors would be coming, though she said nothing of slaying Red Wizards, nor of saving our lives."

Blake frowned at this news. Whoever these people were they were enough in the confidence of the plotters to be told to expect visitors. Either that or revealing that knowledge to them would have been no threat as they were intended to be slain. Blake thought back to the journey here and whether the Red Wizard who Neeshka had slain in the barrow would have been able to keep the same pace, or how much she would have been able to slow the pace before it became suspicious. It did seem likely that despite the delay of loitering in the market to examine the theatre they had arrived sooner than this Lienna might have expected.

"That Red Wizard was not alone…" the lady Dwarf added, "there are more of them and they've followed Lienna into the back rooms."

"You should get yourselves to safety," Blake replied, not voicing his cynical thought that of course they had, if these had survived then they could say Lienna was being chased and if they died then at least the back rooms were more private. "I'll deal with the Wizards."

"Wait! Lienna is no simple theatre matron," warned the lady Dwarf, not surprising Blake with the news. "She has a secret, a shadowy door that leads to a reflection of the Veil. She has fled through the shadow door. I am sure of it. Still, such tricks won't stop Red Wizards, not for long." The lady Dwarf dug in the folds of her dress and held out a black stone. "Here, take this."

Blake hesitated and then rather than dirty his scabbard with the not perfectly cleaned sword stabbed it into the dirt floor to free his hand to take the stone. The magic around it seemed annoyingly familiar as the Dwarf pressed it into his hand. This was very reminiscent of the spells surrounding what they had fought back on the Sword Coast.

"As long as you've got this stone the shadow door will open for you and you'll be able to follow."

"So this 'door' leads to another plane? One that is similar to our own?" Blake asked, suspecting he knew the answer.

"Lienna brought me through the portal, but only a handful of times. It was cold… drained of colour. An unpleasant place, but it looked like our theatre… mostly. Quickly now, through the door at the back of the stage. Find Lienna's bedroom, and go to the back corner, by the mirror. As long as you have that stone you can't miss the door."

Blake nodded as the lady Dwarf trotted off, followed swiftly by her three much taller colleagues. Turning back to Neeshka they exchanged significant looks before he put the stone in a belt pouch and pulled his sword out of the floor again. As they climbed the short set of stairs to the stage Neeshka cleared her throat nervously.

"Are you sure about this?" Neeshka asked as they entered the back rooms. "Could be getting into a lot more trouble and…"

"And we've had enough trouble with shadows for any one lifetime." agreed Blake. "Not much choice though if we want to try to reach this Lienna and have her answer our questions."

Neeshka's tail twitched as she saw some chests and cabinets but Blake was unkind and kept on walking with a shake of his head. Though the lady Dwarf had not said whether to look to their left or their right they soon found the bedroom. Blake looked quickly around it before his wandering took him too close to the mirror and a dark circle sprang into existence.

"That would answer the question of whether the door would open for us," Blake commented, "_now_ the question is whether we are going to kill Red Wizards to save Lienna, as that Dwarf would expect, or going to kill Red Wizards because they are allied with Lienna."

"One way to find out, walk into the creepy black circle to the cold unpleasant place…" replied Neeshka, before winking and adding, "you first."

A moment of disorientation and then they were elsewhere. Rather than bed and workbenches there were shelves of books and all was muted. As the Dwarf had warned colour had no place in this plane, all was shades of grey and black. There was a sense of familiarity nagging at Blake as he glanced around him.

"Seen gloomier places, can't think of any though… Hey are you all right harbour-boy?"

"Something about this room," Blake mused as he crossed to a door and opened it. "No! Something about _this_ room, it feels… wait, that table."

Blake stared at the table in the centre of the room, dreams or memories returning as he looked at the rough wood and the restraints nailed into it. He had felt those planks against his back, those straps binding him down, and he knew the source of the stains of blood upon it and the floor. His jaw tightened in partially remembered pain and in freshly born rage.

"Sure is a lot of blood about it, someone got cut…open…here," Neeshka started, stammering to a halt as she realised who.

"Aye," growled Blake, looking at the table for a few seconds longer before nodding and turning to her, "I think this is not my first time of being in this room."

"I should have killed that bald-bitch slower!" Neeshka snapped. The blood was bad enough but she could see the tension in her harbour-boy's body, so she was sure those restraints had been needed rather than him being doped to the gills, and immobile, when it happened.

"Seeing this you'll get no argument at the moment from me," nodded Blake, "may Hoar continue to bless us with retribution against them."

Still frowning Blake cautiously approached the table and, leaning his sword against it, pulled off his right gauntlet despite how awkward using his left hand was with his shield on that arm. If sight had brought back memories then maybe so would touch, or perhaps smell… though he was not going to lick the table and try taste. He had been punched in the mouth enough at Harvest Brawls to know he did not like the taste of his own blood. Careful of splinters Blake started to run his bare fingertips across the wood, trying to recover more of the feel of that wood against his bare back and of what had happened here.

"Ack!" grunted Blake, his hand slapping at his breastplate as he reflexively grabbed at his chest, the slap hard enough to sting but that minor pain lost in the agony of memory.

"Blake!" Neeshka almost screamed as her harbour-boy's face distorted and he staggered back away from the table. He was quite a weight, especially in full armour, but she managed to stop him falling.

Blake leaned heavily on Neeshka as he gasped for breath, glad for the open face of his helm and the support of his beloved, and tried to sort the rush of memories. "Two… two voices, or is it one… so alike, so alike. Restraints digging into me. Dark figures, it is two women… sisters? Twins? Fingers cold on my skin, a blade…cutting, pain, so much pain… blood, blood to their elbows, a hand inside my chest… withdrawing, the shard glittering… her eyes on mine… for love?… beasts, gargoyles? Carrying me from the table, into darkness, a cave with runes, oh such foulness, a foul presence waiting within…"

Suddenly Blake jolted upright, surprising Neeshka with the reaction and almost making them both fall backwards again. For long moments it was all Blake could do to breathe and press his bare hand against the forehead of his helmet as he fought against passing out. Finally though his knees felt like they could support him and he straightened up and tried to speak.

"Well…" Blake began weakly, before swallowing a few times and starting again, "Well… that answers how involved this Lienna was."

Neeshka bent and picked up the gauntlet Blake had dropped. Holding it for him she asked, "Was it Lienna who shoved her hand into you?"

"No," Blake replied, closing his eyes in recollection as he slid his hand into the gauntlet, "it was the other. The one whose robes were red before they cut me open rather than just afterwards."

"Eww," said Neeshka, not letting go of the gauntlet and looking at the amount of blood, "accurate, but eww."

Blake nodded as he looked around the room. "Seems here was where I lost the shard before being taken on to the barrow."

"Do you smell something?" Neeshka asked suddenly, her delicate nose twitching.

"Hells!" sniffed Blake, catching the same scent, "Burnt flesh…"

"Lienna! Either she burned the Red Wizards…" Neeshka said, releasing the gauntlet and her harbour-boy's arm.

"Or they burned her while I was distracted by this," finished Blake. With an effort he squared his shoulders and straightened up, "Better find out which."

Picking his sword back up from where it was leaning against the table Blake approached the door. If this shadow Veil were as similar as the Dwarf had said to the one in the normal world then this would lead to the stage. For a moment he considered kicking the door down, it looked flimsy enough, but instead he simply cast some extra protections in anticipation of facing magic and opened it. The smell of charred meat doubled as more was carried on the draught and as Blake and Neeshka moved towards the stage. As expected there were more Red Wizards, though their leader's reaction was less expected.

"You…" the Red Wizard said, his eyes widening, "Araman warned me of you."

"Did he?" Blake replied flatly. "Who's Araman?"

"Does it matter?" commented Neeshka, gesturing subtly. "Look over there."

Blake looked and could see the source of the smell. In the middle of the aisle between shadow-plane bales of hay was a charred skeleton surrounded by blackened soil. That might be tangible enough remains for a prayer of raise dead or resurrection, if Blake had still the services of a cleric of that power, which he did not since Zhjave had deserted them. "Beshaba," he cursed, invoking the name of the _Maid of Misfortune_ as he saw their luck had changed for the worse. "If that is Lienna you have made a mistake Red Wizard," Blake said, turning back to their leader. "I might have wanted her dead…"

"_Might_ have?" Neeshka exclaimed.

Blake glanced at Neeshka before continuing. "I wanted her dead, but I needed to talk to her first."

"A shame the old hag didn't put up more of a fight then before destroying herself in that blaze of fire," the Red Wizard mocked.

"A shame indeed," Blake agreed calmly, "why did _you_ want her dead?"

"I have earned a promotion, but knowing that won't do you any good," the Red Wizard said, some confidence coming to his voice. "Lienna was wise to destroy herself rather than face me. I doubt you have her sense to surrender and make this quick… No matter, let's settle this!"

With that he began chanting to cast a _Fireball_ but as it burst from his hands Blake and Neeshka were already moving. Neeshka's speed and grace would have let her avoid this attack even without the spell Blake had cast to enhance their ability to avoid the worst effects of spells. Blake was rather slower, but he was still quick enough to get mostly out of the way and protective spells and equipment absorbed what fire he did not avoid.

The Red Wizards seemed taken off balance by the speed of Blake and Neeshka's reactions. Then one really was taken off balance as Neeshka leapt from the stage, planting both her feet on his upper chest to ride him down to the floor. The Red Wizard had just enough time to 'oof' out the breath forced from him by landing flat on his back with a Tiefling standing on his chest before she let her knees bend with the impact and her rapier came down and through his neck.

Blake meanwhile had decided to use the stairs and either this gave his first opponent a little more warning or that Red Wizard simply had better reactions. The missiles of a _Greater Missile Storm_ arced away from him and into Blake. This hurt but was nowhere near enough to stop Blake's charge; he ignored the pain and continued on, his armour glowing slightly in patches as it radiated the magical energy it had absorbed back into the weave. The Red Wizard started to back away, to try to keep some distance to cast another spell, but this was too late as Blake brought his sword down in a forehand blow that opened the Red Wizard's front from shoulder to opposite hip.

As Neeshka landed from jumping off the Red Wizard she'd ridden down the Red Wizard leader thought he saw a chance. Muttering again in the language of magic he sent a spell of _Disintegrate _slicing towards Neeshka, but she twisted backwards and the beam continued past her to carve a hole in the shadow-theatre wall. Glancing over his shoulder at the armoured man the Red Wizard snarled to his last ally to hold him off. The Tiefling was approaching, and she'd proved quick on her Infernal-spawned feet, so the Red Wizard leader decided to try something less easy to sidestep. He chanted and the broader effect of a _Cone of Cold_ spewed from his hands.

Neeshka stumbled as despite her efforts an edge of this caught her and one leg became coated with frost. The fine links of the chainmail froze together, the leather of her boot became stiff with cold, and beneath her armour her leg went slightly numb. She could still move it but it would take a few minutes for feeling to completely return to her leg and for her armour links to shed all the tiny fragments of ice that were falling from them like snow as she moved and they broke free.

The Red Wizard leader smiled as he saw his target become an easier one. He hesitated a moment in triumph as he considered what spell would be best to finish her, what would be most painful or humiliating, or whether to simply immobilise her and save her for later… There was a sudden impact in his back and he fell under the weight of whatever had struck him. Wetness soaked him as he twisted on the floor under this weight and he nearly vomited as he realised what had hit him had been the headless corpse of his last ally and he was being drenched in blood.

As much as a Wizard had an advantage at range there was little one unprepared for physical combat could do up close against someone armed, armoured, battle-hardened, and motivated by a danger to the woman he loved. None of the Red Wizards had expected to have to get their hands or quarterstaffs dirty. Those in the Veil had the Gnolls for that and those that had pursued into the Plane of Shadows had expected, if anything, a duel of magic. Blake had barely been slowed as he brought his sword across in a backhanded blow and slammed his shield into the freshly decapitated corpse to knock it into the Red Wizard Leader.

Blake looked across at Neeshka, who nodded to him and started massaging her chilled leg, and then stared down at the surviving Red Wizard as blood dripped from his sword and the Red Wizard scrabbled at the dirt to try to drag himself out from under the body. He thought for a moment and then crouched down onto one knee as he slapped the flat of his sword onto the Red Wizard's left hand. There was a crunch from the hand and a cry from the mouth of the Red Wizard as Blake straightened again, and then drove his boot heel into the Red Wizard's face, truncating the Red Wizard's crying.

Neeshka looked a bit worried, she'd not been badly hurt or in enough danger that her harbour-boy ought to be beating someone to death over it. Reassurances were on the edge of her lips as Blake stabbed his sword down into the dirt floor and then crouched again and grabbed the Red Wizard by the throat. With anger and magic fuelled strength Blake hauled the Red Wizard up, out from under the corpse of his colleague, and slammed his back against the stage. The stage was low so the Red Wizard bent backwards slightly over it and unfortunately for him he tried to brace himself against the stage's edge. The pain in his left hand as he pressed it against the edge of the stage was joined by fresh agony from his right as Blake punched his shield-arm forward and crushed the Red Wizard's other hand between the edge of his shield and that of the stage.

"_Talk_," Blake said with as much menace as he could.

This was not enough menace though to pierce the Red Wizard's conceit. Even covered in the blood of another, his own blood bubbling from his broken nose and his mouth, and his hands crushed to a state only the most skilled clerics could regenerate he was still contemptuous of the danger. This thug might have broken his hands but the Red Wizard knew he still had some still-spells prepared. He only needed half a chance and he'd be able to fight back. There was no way this pair would recognise spellcasting without the normal hand waving.

Neeshka came over, Blake's hand tightening slightly on the Red Wizard's neck as he saw she was limping slightly, and she placed her the edge of her sword lightly against the back of Blake's hand. Blake looked at her for a moment before he understood, nodded, and removed his hand from under the blade. Released from this grip the Red Wizard had to fight to avoid falling forward onto Neeshka's sword and slicing his own throat open. As he tried to keep his balance and Neeshka kept her sword so he could not move far the Red Wizard watched Blake back away a little.

"I want answers," Blake said simply.

There was a short silence while the Red Wizard continued to stare defiantly and then Blake muttered an invocation. He'd always been more inclined to ask politely or try to persuade or convince than simply glower so he hoped his magic would be more menacing than his personality. A _Vitriolic Sphere_ formed and crossed the short distance to the Red Wizard corpse by the stairs. Flesh and cloth began to smoke as the acid ate away at them and the corpse began to dissolve. Within seconds patches of skull started to show as the flesh there was both thin and unprotected by clothing. Blake turned back and looked at the Red Wizard.

Fear had entered the Red Wizard's eyes as well as pain as things suddenly seemed hopeless. For that thug to have cast that spell he must have considerable knowledge both of the arcane and of how to cast spells without needing hand-motions. The half chance the Red Wizard was hoping for had revealed itself as no chance at all. There was still one way to deny the thug what he wanted though… to achieve some victory.

Neeshka whipped her rapier away as the Red Wizard lunged, but too late. The incredibly sharp edge of the blade her harbour-boy had paid one of the finest smiths of the Sword Coast to make for her only needed the barest touch to open the Red Wizard's throat. As his blood spurted from his neck and he collapsed the Red Wizard managed to force a look of contempt and triumph to his face.

"I'm sorry, he just… just…" said Neeshka, looking down at the corpse with a stricken expression.

"Not your fault," Blake interrupted, "it is mine for being squeamish."

"Squeamish?" asked Neeshka, her contrition replaced by surprise. She'd seen what he'd done to that Red Wizard without hesitation or mercy.

"We both know there are wounds that incapacitate without being fatal," Blake pointed out. "But rather than cripple him I was just trying to intimidate and prevent spellcasting."

Neeshka looked back down at the corpse. She didn't much care about Red Wizards but she didn't want her harbour-boy becoming a torturer or being tempted towards becoming one. She quickly checked that corpse and the other two, unable to search the third thanks to the acid, and shook her head at Blake. "No clues," she confirmed as she lithely straightened.

"Disappointing, but reassuring in a way," Blake replied. Neeshka looked enquiringly at him so he gestured at the semi-dissolved body. "If there are no clues on them then unlikely there had been any on him."

Neeshka nodded. "We passed chests and bookcases on the way here, maybe better luck there?"

"Red Knight bless our plans and Tymorra our luck," Blake responded, plucking his sword from the ground and cleaning it off.

As they re-entered the previous room and Neeshka crossed to the chest there Blake found himself looking at the table rather than enjoying the sight of Neeshka at work. He wondered how the Red Wizards, or Lienna if she had survived, would have liked being strapped down there and cut open. Dark thoughts swirled through his mind, though whether they were from the depraved part of him, from stories of evil deeds he had read, or came from the hunger that still slept inside him Blake could not be sure.

Swiftly and efficiently Neeshka opened chests and they sorted the contents, adding a few scrolls and items to the burden within their magic bags but learning nothing new about what Lienna had intended or why Red Wizards had killed her. It was well known the Red Wizards of Thay were riven by conflict between their factions. That the leader here had felt he had earned a promotion argued for this being more of the same. What Lienna's faction was hoping to accomplish and why they were being opposed in this by that other faction was something Blake would have liked to have discovered though.

Neeshka cursed a little as the door in the portal-room defied her best efforts. Blake smiled sympathetically and then led the way back through the portal to the Veil Theatre. Moving towards the front doors they continued to search, though being careful and taking nothing and Neeshka re-locking anything she had needed to unlock so all appeared undisturbed. As they entered the auditorium Blake frowned as he saw the corpses of the Gnolls and Red Wizards were still there alone.

"Problem harbour-boy?" asked Neeshka, seeing this frown, as she picked up and dusted off her cloak.

"No, no problem," Blake replied sourly as his sweetheart clasped her cloak on, "in fact if we want to continue to hide you are a Tiefling it is fortunate that the guards here have been as lazy in responding to this attack as they were to freeing Shelvedar's wagon."

Neeshka chuckled and raised her hood as Blake tried to convince himself the absence of guards was a good thing. Her harbour boy had not been that long in the City Watch in Neverwinter, or that long Captain of Crossroad Keep, or even that long both combined, but it seemed to have been long enough to make him get irritated when he thought professional standards had not been met. Blake took off his helmet and lowered his chainmail hood to put his hat back on and Neeshka chuckled quietly again to herself as he led the way outside and she heard his noise of annoyance when he saw there were not even guards securing the front door of the theatre.

Suddenly there were three flashes of light, each producing a woman with a mask across her upper face. Blake relaxed his hand from where it had gone to his sword hilt as he looked at these women and decided these might be some of the infamous Witches of this land. It would be better to avoid provoking them with a hand on a weapon both because they had the reputation of being formidable spellcasters and because they were the local authorities. Neeshka had jumped back up a few steps into a defensive crouch and looked back at the Witches as they stared at her and Blake.

"So much for gratitude," Neeshka muttered as the Witches continued to stare, unwelcoming expressions visible around their eyes and on their lower faces.

"Our gratitude is limited, _child_," the oldest Witch retorted, "by the trouble you bring."

"Look Sheva… the girl's companion!" another Witch accused. "It's _that_ one who offends the land and draws an army to our gate."

"Speak your name foreigner," the oldest Witch, Sheva, said, "and be warned that you address the Wychlaran."

"I am Blake Marsh," Blake said, deciding to drop his titles as it seemed unlikely these people would care, "and I came to your city to find a woman called Lienna. But it seems I arrived too late or should not have lingered in your marketplace first."

"Then Magda spoke true?" the third, nervous and younger sounding, Witch asked. "She said there were Thayans, that they appeared from the very shadows…"

_'Hmm,' _Blake mused to himself._'Sounds like the lady Dwarf is called Magda… and from the very shadows might mean from the Shadow Plane, so perhaps the guards aren't as incompetent as they would need to be to not notice a procession of Red Wizards and Gnolls through the gates? On the other hand if those enemies had come through the Shadow Plane then Lienna would know they had access to it and would know this was not a refuge. Never mind now though, the Witches are still speaking.'_

"_Calm_, Katya, you are a Witch now, not a farmgirl," Sheva chided before turning back to Blake. "You crossed spells and blades with our mortal enemies foreigner and drove them from our midst. For that, much may be forgiven."

"Thank you," Blake replied. He tried to keep his tone polite, though he was not sure what he needed to be forgiven for and not sure he cared for the Wychlaran's opinion anyway. "All I ask is you let me finish my business here, find the answers I need, and I shall be on my way."

"He doesn't know…" quavered Katya, her tone making Blake decide the standard of farmgirls in this land was not impressive compared with Shandra and those in West Harbour. "He can't sense the spirits, like we can… the fury that trembles in the earth and screams upon the wind…"

"The bear-god has marched an army of spirits to our gate," Sheva said, overriding her subordinate. "He roars for your blood and claims you have defiled his sacred den… that you have loosed an evil upon the world."

"And the bear-god does not lie," the bitter voiced Witch said. "I can smell the wrongness on you, foreigner, it hangs upon you like a corpse shroud."

"Indeed, he may be right," Blake admitted, "a Red Wizard plot placed me, unconscious, in his barrow and these other Red Wizards have prevented me learning why. I had little luck explaining that to him before, but I don't wish any ill on you or your town so I am willing to try again. However I _would_ prefer to speak to Magda first in case Lienna told her something I can use."

"Your country must be barren, foreigner…" marvelled Sheva, "its spirits long dead or twisted into creatures of flesh and reason. The gods of our land are ruled by passion alone. Whatever your intentions, whatever your arguments, however noble your dreams may be… if the bear-god craves your blood you will bleed."

"And how do we know your dreams _are_ noble?" added the bitter Witch contemptuously. "How do we know you wouldn't have slain Lienna yourself? How do we know you won't do the same to Magda?"

"And how do you know my dreams are _not_ noble?" Blake replied. "But, to answer your second question, with Lienna it would have depended on what she said. Being abducted and having my chest cut open does not engender kind feelings."

"Your honesty does you credit foreigner," conceded Sheva before adding, "Although it makes us glad we have placed Magda in a place of safety."

"Her… her I have no argument with," Blake nodded to himself as he sorted his thoughts. "When I entered the Veil Theatre and saw her it felt as if that was for the first time. Her face does not appear in what memories I have recovered of my abduction."

"Nonetheless foreigner, until you make your peace with the bear-god we cannot know you for a friend," replied Sheva, unconvinced. "Magda will be kept safe from the bear-god, and from you, until then."

"Then I have little choice," Blake frowned. "If you say I cannot use reason rather than force, then I shall have to confront Okku. Again."

Sheva looked at Blake a moment and then came to a decision, "No witch may stand against the spirits of the land… but I will honour the debt we owe you for defeating the Red Wizards. Go to our prison on the north edge of town. Any convict who is willing to stand at your side will be granted a full pardon."

"My thanks," Blake replied, wondering if the Witches were just trying to save on the cost of executions. "May _Lady Luck_ smile on us all, even Okku, so this can be resolved for the best and I can get some of the answers I seek."

"We will watch from our high place, and we will receive you again," Sheva concluded. "_If_ you return alive."

Three lights flashed and the Witches vanished as abruptly as they had arrived. Neeshka glanced around at the various passers-by and marketplace customers that were looking at them and sighed as she saw the looks they were being given and the gossiping that had already started. "So much for trying to keep a low profile," she muttered to Blake.

"Sorry dear," Blake replied as quietly, "you were right about entering the Veil Theatre."

"Oh!" exclaimed Neeshka before lowering her voice again. "No, no… I didn't mean that. Despite us preparing outside in plain view nobody seemed to notice. I was talking about the Witches flashing in and out."

"Ah," Blake replied, "and having that conversation out here rather than inside."

"Right," said Neeshka, "and they'll receive you if you survive? Generous of them, unless you shambled up to them as an Undead be hard to receive you if you didn't."

"At least they are keeping out of our way until then," Blake reminded her.

"Not completely," grinned Neeshka, "depends how much they would be watching from their 'high place'."

"Ah, yes…" Blake smiled, "there are some things I'd rather not have them watch us do, mostly those inspired by Sharess."

Neeshka giggled at the mention of the goddess of sensual fulfilment. "The show might cheer them up, or they might get jealous."

"One would cause us problems," Blake replied, "and the other is an image I'd have preferred to not have had evoked."

"We could just leave," Neeshka said, trying to change the subject again. "I am sure you could figure out some sort of spell to get us past the spirits or… as creepy as it was… we could see if we can travel through the Shadow Plane and come back out far away?"

"Those could work, but I don't think Okku would relent in his pursuit," Blake frowned in thought. "I'd rather fight him here where there is a chance of gaining answers from Magda than fight him far away where there would be no such gain. I just hope these witches are not like Captain Brelaina."

"Eh?" Neeshka said, not seeing the connection.

"You remember how she had us running around, dangling the promise of entering Blacklake if we completed one more task…"

"I still think we could have snuck over the wall," pouted Neeshka. "Was embarrassing working for the City Watch, not how I thought I'd be spending my time back in Neverwinter."

"Well, I didn't think I'd be helping a pretty Tiefling win a burglary contest," Blake pointed out.

"You are just lucky the Collector was willing to go along with your plan so we could trap Leldon."

"Lucky or unlucky?" Blake asked with a grin. "If he'd not been willing to pretend to be being robbed in return for those rare items we'd found I doubt you'd have given up the contest, and I am sure you would have found some interesting ways to try to persuade me to…ouch."

Neeshka flexed her hand where she had punched Blake in the upper arm. She'd misjudged slightly how hard the Mithril armour plate would be to hit compared with the leather pad she had in the same place. Seeing this Blake took her by the fingertips. He grazed a kiss across the knuckles of her glove and demonstrated he had learned some of the basics of how to behave at court. With a dimpled smile Neeshka bobbed slightly in a semi-curtsy in return.

"I'd have persuaded you," Neeshka said after a moment, happy to leave her hand in her harbour-boy's, "you'd have done what I wanted, but I cared a lot more about you than the contest with Leldon." Blake looked slightly blank so she continued with a slight sad smile, "I wasn't going to risk losing you to doubting my… reasons."

"Hmm," Blake said as he nodded, "as much as I love and trust you now it is hard to remember this was not always as complete. You're right, as much as I'd have enjoyed the persuasion…"

"And I'd have enjoyed the persuading…" interrupted Neeshka with a wink.

"In the cold light of day I'd have had doubts back then, wondered if you were using me, if I was…" Blake paused with a sigh before continuing. "Still, back to the Witches. I don't think there's a, metaphorical, wall to sneak over here."

"If this was Neverwinter I'd know where to look, I'd have some contacts," grumbled Neeshka, "but in this town your guess is as good as mine harbour-boy. Well, maybe not quite as good, but…"

"But I know what you mean," Blake admitted. "And scrying spells will be of no help, they are sure to have screened Magda from those and it's equally sure they'd know if I attempted to prepare one."

"I hate that we're going to have to play by their rules," frowned Neeshka slightly.

"For now, but if we can kick the board over and that gets us home sooner then we shall."

Neeshka's frown cleared into a smile as she found her harbour-boy, despite his honesty, was looking for the better more devious angle. She glanced either way, the gates on the road up the hill were open and that would probably be the direction of the prison. More important the gates towards the dock were also open; she had faith that if that Inn had a nice room Blake would be able to screen it against the Witches watching and that she could motivate him to do this. Even if it would require many hours of study and preparation from him he would think it worth the end result.

Blake was having similar thoughts though he was less confident than Neeshka in his ability to create an anti-scrying field. He knew the basic ideas but that was a long way from being able to create a spell. Still, he thought looking at Neeshka, it was worth the time to think about and maybe recheck the market for any books that could help. However as Blake wandered towards the market two winged figures approached, their build suggesting Celestial blood rather than Avariel, and Neeshka suddenly winced and moved back. Blake cast a worried glance at her but she waved this concern off.

"We couldn't help but overhear," the male said, the broad antlers attached to his helmet bobbing as he spoke. "An army of angry spirits awaits you at the gates of Mulsantir. You will perhaps require more help against such a host."

"My bow and my brother's sword will aid you," the black haired female added, "should you agree to first help us find our lost sister Kaelyn the Dove."

Blake cast another worried glance back at Neeshka. Normally she'd have made some small noise at having it confirmed these people wanted a task performed but instead she was lingering barely within earshot. He was worried as what he could see of her body language with the concealing cloak suggested discomfort but these two seemed to be waiting for some sort of answer.

"You are the only winged people I have seen since arriving in this land," Blake replied, dragging his attention away from Neeshka, "so where would you suggest we start such a search?"

"Kaelyn came here seeking the abandoned stronghold of Myrkul," the female supplied, "the Death God's vault, which is in Shadow Mulsantir."

"Understandable that it would be abandoned with that God of the Dead having become subject to his own portfolio, and Shadow Mulsantir I think I have been to, though I did not exit the building in which I entered that plane."

"It is said that Mulsantir has thin boundaries between the Prime and the Plane of Shadow," nodded the male, making Blake hope he had strapped his antlered helmet on securely, "especially at night or in dark places."

"Yes, if the rumours are true there are many 'weak spots' where one can cross to the Plane of Shadow at night," added his sister. "Perhaps a thorough search of the city might reveal some of these to you."

"We asked the witches when we first arrived and they claimed that Shadow Mulsantir was just a myth," complained her brother, "but from what you have said we know that is a lie. Maybe if you spoke to them…"

"Wait," Blake interrupted, noticing something despite being distracted by his concern for Neeshka, "you say 'some of these to _you_' and 'if _you_ spoke to them'…"

"Entering Myrkul's sanctum would be a violation of our faith to Kelemvor," the male noted piously.

Blake opened his mouth to argue. That they could not enter Myrkul's sanctum did not prevent them from helping in the search for places in Mulsantir to reach the Shadow-Plane. Did not prevent them from talking to the Witches again. Did not prevent them from crossing over to Shadow-Mulsantir and aiding against any danger on the way to Myrkul's sanctum before others entered it. _Would_ not have prevented them from crossing over to Shadow-Mulsantir and, having opened or smashed the sanctum's outer doors, from shouting themselves hoarse calling in through that doorway for their sister. But then Blake glanced again at Neeshka. There was something wrong with her and, as it seemed connected to these people, allowing them to remain behind rather than protesting their excuses might be better.

"And your sister," Blake asked, refraining from his arguments, "is this not true for her as well?"

"Kaelyn has… abandoned her faith in Kelemvor," replied the male, reluctance and sadness mingling in his voice. "For this she was exiled from our grandfather's court. She now follows Ilmater, the god of martyrs."

"We hope to find our sister and convince her to not become a martyr herself…" added his sister.

Blake nodded rather than comment that acting rather simply hoping might have been more effective. "With no offence to your grandfather his having exiled her would seem to make that more likely a fate. Still, with the blessing of Tymorra, she may yet be reached in time."

"We hope so," said the male, again testing Blake's resolve to not argue.

"You say she is likely within the vault of dead Myrkul?" Blake continued, trying to get what information he could. "Do you have any idea what else might be within?"

"The Death God's Vault has been abandoned since his death", replied the male, "It was used as a library, a prison, and a secure place to store things valuable to the Myrkullite faith."

"Is there something specific she seeks?"

The two siblings exchanged a look and Blake's jaw tightened in impatience. These two had already made it clear they were going to be no practical help in the search for their sister so the least they could do was share the information they were unwilling to use themselves. For a moment Blake wavered between continuing the conversation and simply walking away; to leave them to find someone else and allow him to find out sooner what was wrong with Neeshka. Frankly he cared more about Neeshka's discomfort than he did about whether they or their sister lived or died, but a twinge of conscience made him make one last effort.

"_If_ there _is_ something she seeks," Blake pointed out, more annoyance than he realised seeping into each over-emphasised word, "then _if _you tell me _what_ I will at least know _where_ in this Vault to _begin_ my search."

The female's lips tightened in decision as she saw their best chance slipping away from them. "I believe she may have gone there to learn more about Akachi's Crusade…"

"Sister!" protested her brother. "Do not speak of the Betrayer. For Kaelyn's sake I hope she is there for some other reason."

"Very well," Blake replied, ignoring the brother. "I shall seek out Kaelyn and seek her amongst the books, rather than the cells or strongboxes."

"Thank you," said the female. "We will be very grateful to once more lay eyes upon our beloved sister."

"Go with care," the male advised. "The Death God's vault may still contain some of Myrkul's old defences, and Kelemvor's blessings be with you."

As the two half-celestials moved back to where they had been lingering in the marketplace Blake pondered whether the hat he'd bought had 'idiot' embroidered on it and a spell that made this only visible when worn. That pair had picked him to do what they would not and of course he would go with care and of course there might still be traps there. Still best to take the warning in the spirit it was, probably, intended. Neeshka was moving back towards him so Blake took the few steps to meet her.

"Can we afford to help them?" Neeshka asked quietly, her normal effervescence notably absent. "I thought we wanted to get home as soon as we could."

"I'd think you'd like the idea of visiting an abandoned Vault with valuable things," said Blake, trying to cheer her up.

"Valuable to the Myrkullites and Valuable are two different things," Neeshka replied, looking irritated. "Holy artefacts are nothing but trouble."

Blake half smiled, much more reassuring to have Neeshka look annoyed with him rather than subdued, before looking concerned again. "There is more going on here with you than you are saying my love."

"You remember when we met Casavir?" Neeshka said, looking a little queasy.

"Aye, you said his aura made your skin itch…" replied Blake, realising as he spoke, "are you saying they give you the same trouble?"

"More," Neeshka admitted. "I don't know if it is them, or what Black Garius did to me, but it was quite painful them being close by."

Blake scowled as he remembered Black Garius' boast that he had directed his binding magic at and through Neeshka's blood of the lower planes, this could have made her more sensitive to those of the upper planes. "I don't want to cause you pain," suggested Blake slowly. "Perhaps what might be best is if you remain in Mulsantir, away from the half-celestials and away from the bear-god and let them inflict pain on each other rather than you…"

"Will you stop doing that harbour-boy!" Neeshka snapped, looking angry rather than just annoyed. "Have you ever needed to rescue me since that first time?"

"No, I suppose not, and you are only here because _I_ needed the rescuing."

"Well then," Neeshka replied, glad Blake was not going to argue, "stop trying to tell me to stay somewhere safe. If you think we need their help, or if your tender conscience won't let you go back on having agreed to look for their sister, then I'll tolerate their presence."

"My conscience would handle disappointing strangers, especially those two, far better than it would handle pain to someone I love," Blake stated flatly. "But… that pain could come from Okku if we don't have them to be between his claws and you."

"Deal then," nodded Neeshka. "Now that is settled all we need is to find out how to get to their sister."

"Speaking to the Witches is not something I favour," Blake agreed, with obvious understatement, "but there seems no other choice. I'll assume that by their 'high place' they mean what someone less full of dung would call 'near the top of the hill'."

"As good a place to look as any now those inner gates are open."

The walk up the hill was not a long one and Blake and Neeshka nodded and glanced to each other as they saw what looked to be a Temple of Kelemvor. If Shadow-Mulsantir was a reflection of this plane then that would likely be where Myrkul's vault was there. Blake looked to their left and saw some statues, which was possibly where the Witches were, but he also saw a pair of Berserkers hitting each other outside a long low building.

"Other way harbour-boy," Neeshka commented quietly as Blake continued ahead.

"Avoiding Berserkers," replied Blake, also sotto voice. "Getting a better idea of town layout by circling around."

Neeshka nodded to this and then nodded again at the prison as they passed it. There were some stairs set into the side of the hill and it was a mild surprise to Blake after they had climbed them that they could see the Witches below rather than their 'high place' being on this highest point. With a shrug, and another prayer to Milil for eloquence, he led the way down the sloping path and approached the Witch who seemed to be the leader here.

"The bear-god still roars for your blood foreigner," Sheva said unwelcomingly, "why do you stand on our sacred ground?"

"I have met a brother and sister who have offered me aid, but that depends on my finding their sister who they believe is in Shadow Mulsantir."

"That place is a fable spread by the rumours of foreigners," Sheva lied.

"Madame," said Blake firmly, but without disrespect, "within the Veil Theatre I passed through a portal to the Plane of Shadows…"

"Hmmm, indeed, I suppose that renders the denials pointless in your case," Sheva groused. "I will mark a location on your map where when night falls you may find another portal. In return though I ask that you not speak of this to others."

"I will be discreet."

"See that you do," Sheva threatened, her expression souring a little more. "Residents of Mulsantir live with enough fear lately. I do not want some foreigner to give solidity to what is, for now, just a rumour."

Blake nodded to her and led the way back towards the prison. His mood was becoming ever darker as at each turn he found more deceit, more hindrance to him finding the answers he needed to unravel the Red Wizard plot. Those that had Oghma's blessings of knowledge seemed to wish to hoard them. The only person that had been helpful to him so far had been that merchant Shelvedar whose warning and advice had been worth far more than the profit he'd made on the cloaks. Even Magda had likely only given information because she thought he might need it to save Lienna. There was only one thing that made this less bleak and, praise Sune for their love, she was walking gracefully by his side.

"So we need to wait for night?" Neeshka asked as she returned the smile Blake had suddenly given her.

"Probably, unless we want to go through the Veil Theatre."

"I think not," Neeshka mused, "they might have got around to cleaning up the bodies by now."

"Aye, and if I am not supposed to speak of Shadow-Mulsantir would be hard to explain to those cleaners why I needed to go past them to the back rooms." Blake glanced at the sun before continuing. "It is only evening so that gives us time to prepare and to see what we can find in the prison."

"If they are in prison they can't be much good," Neeshka pointed out with professional pride.

"Or maybe the witches are more formidable than they seem, and have managed to imprison someone of significant power. If so then that would suggest it unwise for us to fight them, or at least not without finding some sort of advantage."

Neeshka thought a moment and then, reluctantly, conceded that point. Though privately she still felt confident who would come off worse if those Witches did force her and her harbour-boy to fight them. Whether it had been modesty or whether he thought there an advantage in their ignorance of his titles and deeds the result had been the same. The Witches did seem to be underestimating them and mistaking Blake's lack of arrogance for a lack of the power to be arrogant with.

It was only a short walk past the Temple of Kelemvor and around towards its back where the prison faced onto a small graveyard. Entering the prison an old Witch approached them with the scowl that seemed to have been placed on all their faces along with the masks. She looked at Blake and Neeshka and honoured them with a second or two of extra scowling before she spoke.

"As you have disturbed the spirits," the old Witch complained to Blake, "you also disturb me. For what reason are you here?"

"Your fellow Witch, Sheva, said any prisoner I can recruit would earn a pardon. Were you not informed?"

"I was," admitted the Witch-warden.

"Then _that_ answers your question," Blake said, his tone becoming harsher at this needless pretence of ignorance. "Who do you have imprisoned here?"

"A murderer, a thief, and one whom I will not speak of," replied the old Witch, deciding to supply information so Blake would leave sooner. "Dangerous, he is. It is permitted to speak with them. Be warned: two you need not fear, but as for the third… guard your thoughts."

"Dangerous sounds promising," Neeshka whispered into Blake's ear.

Blake nodded to her in agreement as they crossed to the first cell and looked at the Hagspawn within.

"You want something from me?" the Hagspawn said as he felt their eyes on him.

"I am looking for aid fighting an army of spirits," Blake said simply.

"No hand will I raise against spirits," the Hagspawn replied. "Their reach and their memories are long."

"Certainly seem to bear grudges…" commented Neeshka before subsiding as Blake glanced at her. She bit her lower lip and twinkled her eyes at him as she realised she was actually arguing against Blake being able to recruit this person.

"If you are the murderer, rather than the thief, of whom the old witch spoke then what alternative have you?" Blake pointed out. "Certain death if you stay here to be executed but only probable death if you aid me and earn a pardon."

"Hah! I am Hagspawn and so outcast, trapped in this existence through no fault of my own. I gladly accept the fate that awaits me here since it will bring me the peace that has eluded me. Go now, I do _not_ wish to speak to you any longer."

Blake and Neeshka exchanged a shrug, hers looking far prettier, as the Hagspawn turned away and started to ignore them. The next cell looked even less promising as all it contained was a Halfling and not one that looked tough. There were many tales of people underestimating the sharpness of Halfling blades, the accuracy of Halfling slings, or the potency of Halfling magic but this fellow looked more Mouse than Shrew. More prey than voracious but tiny predator.

"If you are going to ask me what you asked Groznek," the Halfling said before Blake could speak, "I've got the same answer: no."

"What sort of thievery did you commit?"

"There was a misunderstanding about the ownership of some coins I found while visiting the local bazaar…" came the reply as the Halfling eyes shifted back and forth rather than meeting Blake's own.

"An easy misunderstanding to happen," Neeshka said, mock-consolingly.

"Naturally the Witches took the word of the locals over that of a traveller from Luiren who'd barely arrived in the city," the Halfling added, looking more mouse like by the moment.

"Naturally," Blake replied deadpan.

"Look, you made your offer, I turned you down, and that's that," said the Halfling. "We've got nothing else to talk about."

"True," Blake admitted, "so enjoy the rest of your sentence. Hopefully this town doesn't have laws stating thieves' hands should be cut off, and a magic tattoo to prevent regeneration applied to the stump."

The Halfling looked at Blake for the first time at that comment, wondering suddenly if he should have taken the offer and then tried to desert, but Blake had already turned and walked away. Blake paused a moment before the closed door at the end to speak quietly to Neeshka. "I doubt the Halfling would have done more than given Okku a belch," Blake commented, glancing back over his shoulder and amplifying, "a particularly foul belch, but the Hagspawn might have lasted longer."

"No loss, either of them" Neeshka replied.

"I suppose not," nodded Blake in agreement, "Hopefully this is the 'dangerous' one here, and he's the sort of dangerous that can be aimed."

Pushing the door open Blake had to fight to keep his disappointment from his face. The prisoner within looked to spend more time on his hair and gazing at himself in admiration in a mirror than on honing any skills useful against a spirit-army. On the other hand as little reason as Blake had to trust the judgement of Witches they had called him dangerous and there did seem to be some arcane markings on the floor.

"Ah, more jailers come to rattle my cage?" the man said, his skin tone though not his features reminiscent of the Hagspawn they had just seen. "Here I was, settling into a relaxing dream, now you've gone and spoiled it."

"Aww… sorry for interrupting your nap," retorted Neeshka, "must be _very_ tiring being in jail."

"Your apology is accepted, in just the way you intended, and I am sure _you_ know much of being in prison. Myself I have no desire to learn more of this from you or from personal experience. But you must have come for some urgent need… amuse me with it, it will help pass the time."

Before Neeshka could respond Blake spoke, trying to keep his tone diplomatic. "What are these wards around your prison?"

"Oh those?" asked the man with fake surprise. "I hadn't noticed. Did some child come by with a handful of chalk and scrawl them there?"

"Perhaps," Blake said, losing a little of his politeness, "given the skill. Someone altered them though, and from the inside."

"Hmm. A mystery, indeed," replied the man, casting a look at the wards. "Who do you suspect of altering them? Not me, I hope? I have an alibi."

"I'd _never_ suspect you," Blake said, matching the man's earlier false surprise. "Looks to have been expertly done. Which, of course, rules you out at once."

"Well, I suppose I should be gratified by the exoneration. One less crime I am guilty of, and a judgement so _caustically_ delivered. You may actually be worth speaking with…"

"You may actually _not_ be," Neeshka muttered, impatient with the banter.

"But you have not answered what precisely it is that you want," the man continued, ignoring Neeshka. "I am not a reader-of-minds, you know, so out with it."

"First," Blake asked, his eyes narrowing a fraction, "what crime have you been jailed for?"

"My crime? It is a serious one you see," came the conceited reply. "I am too handsome to look upon." Neeshka gave a most unladylike snort at this and rolled her eyes at Blake as he glanced to her. Blake shrugged, his patience diminished, and started to turn to go. "It is no matter," the man said, seeing this reaction "I have no need to see how hot the already warm blood of your companion can be stoked, so here I will remain so as to not ruin your chances with the fairer sex."

Blake paused in his turn as his fists flexed. It did seem this man was only dangerous to the temper of those intolerant of mockery, but then Blake _was_ intolerant of mockery directed towards Neeshka. Killing this fellow as he had Leldon's thugs that had called her 'goat-girl' would likely cause trouble, but there was the option of solving two problems with a series of punches. It would avenge the mockery and, if this man was imprisoned for being too handsome to look at, his problem could be solved by a contest between his sneering face and the Mithril of Blake's Gauntlets. Though if Neeshka wanted him maimed she was more than capable of doing it herself…

"Hah!" Neeshka replied scornfully, movement beneath her cloak showing her tail was lashing. "If I thought _you_ could ruin _his_ chances with the fairer sex I'd drag you out of here myself."

"What?" said Blake in a rather dopey tone, taken by surprise by this.

"Come on harbour-boy…" Neeshka grinned to Blake, "you don't think I haven't noticed how many women share my taste in you."

"An amusing notion," the man said, looking Blake up and down. "I should like to hear more about this strange occurrence."

"Strange? What is so strange…" Blake protested before he could help himself, "Ah… I mean, nothing to hear. She is exaggerating."

"Am I?" purred Neeshka, "What about Elanee?"

"Well, perhaps," Blake admitted, "though I never tried to encourage her…"

"Captain Brelaina…" added Neeshka.

"She didn't like me," Blake replied, "she just liked that we were embarrassing other factions and she could use us for that."

"Kana?" said Neeshka, wiggling her eyebrows at Blake, "She'd have loved to show you privately how she could handle your… 'Sword'."

"I think not…" Blake frowned repressively, "she seemed professional, a good seneschal…"

"Katriona?" mused Neeshka.

"Now that's just silly," Blake protested, "you know she was in love with Casavir."

"Maybe…" admitted Neeshka, "what about Qara then?"

"What about her?" said Blake, baffled.

"You know how she acted at the Academy," Neeshka pointed out, "but she sometimes took your advice rather than threaten to incinerate you like she would Sand."

"It… it was good advice…" replied Blake, still a little surprised at the idea, and a little surprised he _was_ so surprised as unless she had been admitted to the Academy early, which could explain her alienation if she was among older but less talented people, there had only been a few years between him and Qara. "That doesn't mean she liked me, or at least not that way."

"Shandra," Neeshka said flatly.

"She didn't like me at all," frowned Blake, more puzzled than repressive this time, "not after we got first her barn and then her house burned down."

"And then you saved her life… _twice_… and she began sticking to you like glue," Neeshka said, continuing the tale, "and then she sacrificed her life to save yours."

"She sacrificed herself to save _all_ of us," Blake corrected.

"Did she?" Neeshka asked dubiously.

"Yes!" Blake replied.

"Oh bravo," the man said, clapping his hands sardonically, "a fine defence of repeated denial and a surprising history to be defended."

Blake glared slightly at the man, having almost forgotten the audience for a moment. "So it _was_ your wit and charm that got you jailed I see."

"Ah, a little bite to the usual banter, with just a dash of sarcasm."

'A dash?'

Blake thought.

"That _would_ confirm you are not from Mulsantir, they have no sense of humour whatsoever," the man continued. "But come now, this banter is delightful but, as delightful as it is, I doubt it was just the chance to converse with me that brought you here."

"That _would_ hardly have been enough I agree," Blake retorted, "I am looking for aid in defending Mulsantir."

"How disappointing, seeking soldiers are you?" replied the man with a sigh. "For that you have come to the wrong cell. I am neither foolhardy nor desperate enough to fight barbarians or Thayans. Go find a poorhouse and scatter a few coppers… that may yield better results."

"If it were barbarians or Thayans I might, though I would be reluctant to lower my standards to recruit those as apparently unskilled as you. Instead though I need help in fighting a spirit army that gathers outside Mulsantir, and you _might_ have some _very_ well hidden talent that would be useful for that."

"The army of spirits is at the gates?" the man asked, showing complete interest for the first time, some alertness entering his eyes to replace languid boredom. "So… they have arrived. I was wondering when that might take place in the real world."

"Real world? You knew this was going to happen and gave no warning?"

"Now, now, knowing and telling are two different beasts… and the bear-god, he is a third," came the unconcerned reply. "If I may say, you are rather brave to marshal an army to meet them. That's no 'ordinary' band of spirits out there… that's a hornet's nest of beasts. They're screaming for blood so loud I can hear them in my dreams." The man broke off and looked Blake up and down again, smiling smugly as he did. "And suddenly I am struck with the suspicion the blood they seek is yours."

"You deduced that from the fact I have to fight them?" Blake said sarcastically. "Bravo, I am in awe of your recognition of such _subtle_ clues."

"Of _course_ you are. Grave robbers are you? Tsk, tsk. One should leave barrows of the ancient bear-god alone lest he come for you in his garishly coloured furry rage. So, entertain me brave one. Why should one such as I follow you into such a hopeless battle?"

"Follow? After the pleasures of our conversation I was thinking more you being to the fore so I could throw you to Okku and try to hit him while he was still chewing you down."

"I hope that was yet more of your sarcasm," the man mused.

"Yes, you do, but there would be only one way to find out. You might be safer in there, but you'd also be far more bored."

"You know, I have no barbed retort to that," the man said in surprise. "And strangely, no desire to issue one if one were to be had. Your statement is frankly in line with my feelings in the matter. Better to be at risk than to be bored, and no telling how long I might be in here otherwise."

"I'll take that coincidence as a compliment," Blake nodded, "a slight one but one all the same."

"Well then, that bodes well for our travels," conceded the man. "You have a willing soldier at your side, for now, so shall we be off? And please, let us visit the witch-warden on the way out so I can pay my respects to her gentle loving soul."

The man wandered out the still open door, past Blake and Neeshka and past the cells towards the Witch-Warden who somehow managed to scowl even more at the sight of him than she already was. She unlocked a chest and the man started removing belongings from it. This was a relief to Blake as the equipment was of sufficiently high quality that he was not going to have to waste his limited gold on equipping this dubious ally. Whether it meant the man had the martial prowess to use this equipment effectively was another matter.

"This one is cursed for taking you, spawn of hags," the Witch-Warden sneered at them, "and I shall be glad to be rid of you. Nothing but trouble for me, for this city, you are."

"_Shall_ you be glad to be rid of me, beautiful matron," contradicted the man, pausing in buckling his leather armour on. "Do not think I did not see the longing eyes you cast at me as you drew your rune circles on the floor of my cell."

"What lies are these?" the Witch-Warden protested, perhaps too vigorously. "Eyes of shame are the only eyes I have for you! Shame!"

"Now, now… there is no need to mask the feelings I stir in you," the man soothed, "and your age but makes you _seem_ as wrinkled as a prune. I see what dances in your thoughts as you dream the slow hours of the day away here in this prison. In the golden woods of Urling, you once sang for an hour a hymn to the sun and dreamed it was a shield carried by a warrior who watched over you… and such passion in that song, why it gives you strength even now."

"You are a dangerous creature Dreamwalker," the Witch-Warden frowned, trying to hide her reaction. "The tales of you all speak such, and many are those you wound with your arrow-flights of words and humour. Do not think us deaf to those who suffer because of your careless footsteps in their dreams and thoughts. Get hence from my thoughts, I warn you."

"Is what she says true?" asked Blake, reconsidering whether throwing this man to Okku would be a bad thing. "Do you intrude in people's minds?"

"Yes, she speaks truly," the man said proudly as he finished gathering his things. "I am that which all farmers with ripe daughters fear, Gannayev… Gann-of-Dreams… who dances in the fires of their sweet children's minds and leaves footprints that no wind or time can erase… and old mother, do not think your mind has not laid down paths for me to stroll. Such thoughts in a woman your age, it would put even a farmer's fiery loined daughter to shame."

"You are a thief, a twister of words!" accused the Witch-Warden. "Go meet the spirit army then, but you will not have my blessing upon you, now or ever!"

Gann gave her another insolent smile before they went outside into the deepening gloom. Blake paused and looked around before turning to Gann. He had tolerated Bishop's foulness for the sake of needing him to track Shandra and had tolerated Qara's pyromania in the hope there was more to her than that. Gann seemed more like the former with his apparent joy in invading and scarring people's minds and that he had delighted in this long enough to earn tales about him. Qara's joy in the feeling of her power flowing through her and her delight each time she had an excuse to release it seemed more honest than this. Like Bishop, however, Gann deserved the chance to be of some use; even if that was only to provide a distraction as he changed his mind and fled after deciding it was better to be bored than at risk.

"Ah, night is not quite upon us," Blake commented. "We intend to travel to Shadow Mulsantir, there to find a lost sister to gain more aid against the Spirits."

"A dreary place from what people have dreamed of it," Gann replied.

"Dreary indeed, and only reachable at night… So I think I shall take your suggestion and spend the time until then scattering a few coppers."

"Dockside inns are good for that, they can attract some real dregs…" Neeshka began before blushing very slightly and adding, "er… not that I am suggesting your Uncle's Inn was anything but classy."

"Or that us staying there made us dregs," smiled Blake.

"As amusing as this talk of people and places unknown to me is," Gann said sardonically, "I _suggest_ we simply go to the Sloop Inn rather than discuss it more."

Blake led the way down the hill and past the Veil Theatre to the riverfront and the Sloop Inn. As Shelvedar had described this did look like a pile of ship and did have a drunk or two slumped against it. It seemed unlikely to Blake that anyone worth even a few coppers as a warrior would be within, but at least this would allow himself and Neeshka to inspect the accommodations and find what there was for when the Witches had stopped watching.

"Well, this is classy," Neeshka commented, looking around as they entered. "You take me such refined places harbour-boy."

"Grrr," the half-Orc woman standing next to the door said.

"Ooops," Neeshka replied, "no offence."

"Just don't make trouble, or else…" growled the half-Orc.

"Define 'trouble'," Blake enquired.

"Don't break anything, and don't get into any fights… or else!"

"All right," Blake said. Her tone was a little abrasive but he couldn't argue with the 'request'.

Neeshka had continued to look around and pointed to a pair near the stage. "They look too drunk and too small…"

"Aye," Blake nodded, "the group in the corner look tough though, and I think that's the merchant we met over there. Let's talk to the barkeep first though."

As the three of them approached the barkeep broke into a practised smile. "A newcomer!" he smarmed, "Welcome to The Sloop! I'm Vladek, the proprietor of this proud establishment."

"Proud?" Neeshka exclaimed. "This dump?"

"Hush," Blake said, smiling.

"Sorry," Neeshka replied, giving a quick apologetic smile to Vladek, "oops again."

"No offence taken," Vladek reassured her, "one person's dump is another's pile of dung."

Blake looked at Vladek for a moment before he could reply. "I…don't see how that is better."

"Oh but it is, now listen and learn," Vladek said in the tone of one launching into a well-worn lecture. "Dung is produced by every living creature and all of them, every last one, hates their dung. They hate it! As soon as they make it they try to bury it, flush it into the Lake, fling it at passers-by, or even just get away from it so that others accidentally step in it."

"Or mulch it into fertiliser," Blake added.

"Aha!" Vladek exclaimed. "You _do_ see how it is better. A wise farmer, or a businessman like me, knows the value of dung. Take what others hate and turn it into something they want, like better fed crops or this place."

"Tell me about your Inn," Blake said, looking around.

"Gladly, I acquired the Sloop a few years ago, with my wife Zorah…"

"And I thought we were a strange couple harbour-boy," Neeshka commented quietly.

"But when we took it over it was dung, an unprofitable glorified museum of some sort," Vladek continued. "I turned the Sloop into an Inn, a fabulous place where the common man, or woman, can come to relax, enjoy, and be entertained. And here we have none of that elitist 'high drama' nonsense like you will find at the Veil Theatre. We cater to the masses, and I've great pride that my Inn will succeed."

"Well, good fortune with that," Blake replied politely. "There is room for all tastes in theatre."

"Don't mistake me, I don't dislike the Veil…" Vladek reassured him. "It is just they are stuck in the past. I know, though, there is a need for lighthearted bawdy plays of comedy and farce rather than yet another ghastly epic drama."

Blake nodded. "Well, farewell."

"Enjoy yourself," Vladek replied, still smiling his practised barkeep's smile.

As they moved away from Vladek a little Shelvedar glanced up from his drink, and smiled and gestured to Blake. "Blake, join us! Gullen, Vinck, spare some room… it's our friend from the road and his companion, don't you remember?"

"Aye, we remember the mud well enough," Gullen said, "and though his spells lessened the ache in our shoulders we still have that to remind us of getting your cursed wagon unstuck."

"You'll have to excuse my comrades," Shelvedar apologised, "they are dour company at the best of times, but uncommonly loyal to my purse."

"Did you manage to free your wagon, after all?" Blake asked.

"Happily, yes… and just before the spirits arrived. A rare stroke of luck, I assure you, and since luck is inevitably followed by terrible misfortune, I reasoned… why not great my misfortune in a drunken stupor? Gullen and Vinck didn't bother to argue, so here we are."

"This place seems… lively," Blake replied as he mused on the truth that Beshaba and Tymorra did seem to balance each other's influence.

"For myself, I attribute the pleasant atmosphere to the lack of Witches…" Shelvedar began.

"Witches can be pleasant," Gann commented, "if you touch their… dreams… just right."

Shelvedar blinked and then grinned at Gann. "In any case I find the locals far more palatable when drunk. If you can wait for the actors to sober up I hear they are playing an especially vulgar performance of 'The Fat Wizard's Wench'."

"Maybe another time," Blake shrugged. "What can you tell me about the patrons here?"

"Scoundrels and rogues every one," Shelvedar nodded approvingly. "Drink enough to pass out and they will kindly relieve you of your purse, your pants, and occasionally your hair… if the actors are in need of a wig."

"Sounds like home to me," smiled Neeshka.

"What of the owner?" Blake asked.

"A colourful fellow who I suspect has traded almost as freely in names as he has in tales. His wife is Zorah, the handsome woman yonder. Comment on her tusks if you must, but at your own risk and leave my name out of it."

Blake nodded, and then jerked his head towards his right shoulder. "And the Rashemi in the corner?"

"Those would be the local pirates," warned Shelvedar. "Of course I would never refer to them as such were they close enough to hear. Their captain is Fyldrin of the Eleven Chairs… though his arse seems to require only one and I have never enquired about the other ten."

"Hmm," mused Blake, pirates could be tough so might be useful. "Aside from that do you know anything of him?"

"Indeed, I know his father is rumoured to have been a great boar spirit… which would explain his considerable body hair," Shelvedar smiled. "Sadly I also know those rumours are nonsense. Fyldrin is the youngest son of Lord Thydrim who was slain in his bed by Thayan knives."

"Thayans, eh?" Blake said, seeing a possibility. "My thanks for the information, and farewell."

"And to you my friend. My table is yours, whenever you see fit to make it so."

Blake smiled his thanks again and walked a little way off from Shelvedar, gesturing Neeshka and to a lesser extent Gann into a huddle. "If we mention having killed Red Wizards," he said quietly, mostly to Neeshka, "and that we are working to unravel a plot of theirs we may be able to get that band to help…"

Neeshka looked dubious. "Maybe, but not everyone listens to good arguments. He looks like one of the thugs Leldon sent after us, too dumb to listen rather than try to fight."

"There is that, but you remember what happened to Leldon's thugs."

"Got your back harbour-boy."

"And I, I suppose," Gann added, with less enthusiasm. "At least this will let me see if your skill is such we have any chance against the bear-god."

Making sure his sword was free to slide in its scabbard Blake approached the pirates. Despite his hope that they would be able to recruit them he was already assessing what armour they wore, what weapons they had, and what strikes and defences would be most effective against them. Neeshka was right and the chances were slender that they would listen and allow the Red Knight to bless them with mutual plans against the Red Wizards. Hopefully they would at least be able to withdraw without upsetting Zorah by having to fight.

"My mind must be playing tricks," Fyldrin sneered as he noticed Blake. "Am I so drunk that I invited a foreign dog to join us?"

"No, Fyldrin…" oozed a particularly sycophantic pirate, "the foreigner invited himself."

"Then the foreigner can drown himself in the river," Fyldrin said, trying to look superior. "We drink with trueborn Rashemi, and no one else. Savvy?"

"Told you," Neeshka whispered into Blake's ear.

Blake nodded slightly to her, this was not a promising start but at least it meant he'd have no qualm of conscience if he did get these 'people' killed. "Drinking was not my intent," he said, making the attempt, "I do have a task though which…"

"Do not insult us foreigner by suggesting we would work for such as you," Fyldrin interrupted, puffing himself up idiotically. "Leave now unless you want us to kill you and the pretty Hagspawn and take your woman, repeatedly, for our pleasure."

_'…which would allow you to revenge yourself further on Red Wizards.'_ Blake thought, finishing his sentence in his mind. Fyldrin's attitude did not bother Blake much and neither did the threat against him, while the threat to Gann didn't bother him at all. Threatening Neeshka was a mistake however that Blake decided would become a fatal one. His hand itched for the feel of his sword hilt in it, but no… better to not upset Zorah, and one thing Blake knew was that ships with their canvas sails, tarred ropes, and old wood burned very well. It had only been a short sea voyage from Highcliff to Neverwinter but it had been long enough for the Captain of that ship to tell them horror stories of how quickly fire could spread and of ships on fire in shark-infested waters and the choice of burning onboard or abandoning ship to be eaten.

Before Blake could step away and quietly ask Neeshka if she wanted fire to be these pirates fate he noticed her smile. He recognised that smile, it was one that presaged trouble and sure enough Neeshka was stepping forward. Somehow she managed to look cute and innocent as she dimpled at Fyldrin, until she drew her rapier and in one quick blur brought its point to within an inch of his left eye.

"Would you like to be known as Fyldrin of the One Eyepatch rather than of the Eleven Chairs?" Neeshka asked sweetly.

"Your woman is feisty, foreigner," Fyldrin said, showing either courage or stupidity. "I shall enjoy taming her once you are dead."

The pirates began to move to surround the trio and to draw their weapons. Blake sighed to himself as he gathered some arcane power to himself and began a quiet incantation. So much for not upsetting Zorah. Just as the pirates got into position he finished his spell of _Firebrand_ and as the ball of fire formed this surprised Gann almost as much as it did the pirates. The large ball split into smaller ones to arc away and the pirates suddenly found themselves on fire, or at least burnt, where these individual fireballs had struck. As they staggered back Blake had time to draw his sword, though he did wish he'd had a little more warning that would have let him unsling his shield from his back or put his helmet on. Neeshka grinned as the pirates burned; she knew her harbour-boy and had known that was coming. That was part of the reason she had threatened Fyldrin, to draw the pirates in around them for that spell she knew Blake liked.

Of course the rest of the reason she had threatened Fyldrin was he'd threatened to kill Blake and to rape her. Fyldrin tried to move back, hoping his burning men were enough distraction, but Neeshka gave her rapier a casual twitch. The tip of it cleanly sliced open Fyldrin's left eye but the clean cut became messier as the magic on the blade discharged and the eye almost exploded. Fyldrin's backward motion became a stagger as he slapped himself in the brow with how fast his left hand come up to cover the ruined eyesocket. Neeshka gave a feral grin and pressed her attack.

Gann and Blake were having more trouble. Blake was a little off-balance without his shield, both physically from having the weight of it on his back rather than his arm and mentally in having to remember to use the sword-only techniques. He'd kept in practice with them in case his shield was destroyed or, as here, he'd not had time to strap it on, but practice and combat experience were rather different. Gann meanwhile was having to use his spear more like a quarterstaff; the pirates were close enough he did not have room for proper spear-thrusts and instead was snapping the butt and spearhead forward in short arcs at faces or shins.

There was a crunch as Gann landed a good blow on one Pirate's knee and that man staggered back a little. Seeing his chance Gann shifted his grip on the shaft of his spear and thrust, the sharp spearhead easily penetrating the man's sternum and rupturing his heart. Gann's movement drew the eyes of the pirates and gave Blake a little extra room stepped into the blow. With that Blake was able to lean back a little and sweep his sword around and three pirates staggered back as the tip of Blake's sword grazed across their unarmoured bellies. As they grasped at their bellies Gann turned and his spear flicked out into a chest and then a throat as Blake reversed his sword swing to finish off the third of those pirates he'd wounded.

"Fine work," commented Gann as the battle was reduced to three versus three.

"Thank you," Blake replied, prowling towards a now fearful looking Pirate. "You also."

Gann nodded and then used the reach advantage of his spear to stab a Pirate in the shoulder. As the pirates sword dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers Gann drew his spear back a little and then flicked it sideways, bringing the sharp tip and edge of the spearhead across his opponent's neck. Blake just brought his sword down in a two-handed diagonal blow. The Pirate did try to parry but his sword was smaller, thinner, and the metal not enhanced with magic. Blake's hand-and-a-half sword barely slowed as it sheered straight through the other blade and then through the Pirate's skull and down into his neck. Wrenching his sword out of the bone Blake turned to see how Neeshka was getting on.

"Oh my," Gann said, sounding impressed as he also turned, "remind me to _not_ annoy her."

Fyldrin was staggering about, blood and fluid seeping from his ruined eyesocket, other cuts bleeding on chest and arms and legs. His blade was still in his hand but it was clear that was only because Neeshka wanted him to feel he could fight rather than him spoil her fun by surrendering. To Neeshka's disappointment he had managed to stay crouched enough to prevent her slicing off the part of him she wanted to, but he'd bleed out just as fast from the throat as from the crotch and it was time to finish this.

"Tame that you arsehole," Neeshka said, deftly slicing Fyldrin's neck open to the spine.

"Hey!" called Zorah, approaching now the fight was over.

"Hmm?" Blake said, still rather disconcerted though not disapproving of how Neeshka had dealt with Fyldrin. Turning to the half-Orc woman he gave her a half bow and his best attempt at an appeasing smile. "My apologies Madame, the provocation was too great."

"I warned you," replied Zorah, not mollified by Blake's smile, "now you are going to pay!"

"You'll find it hard to…" Neeshka began to threaten, still fired up from the fight.

"Please," said Blake, waving Neeshka to silence. "How do you mean Madame?"

"Floorboards need scrubbing," Zorah pointed out, gesturing at the mess, "table and chairs need replacing, bodies need weighting and dumping off the pier. Cost gold, you going to pay!"

"Of course," agreed Blake smoothly, "my apologies for the inconvenience, and my thanks for the service of disposal."

Blake handed over some gold, and then handed over a few more coins, and then a few more with a look that warned Zorah to not push his generosity any more. She gave him a tusky smile, happy to be dealing with someone who'd pay properly rather than being stupid enough to need threats or to let her cheat them. Then she started shouting at her husband and the drunken actors to get brooms and buckets for cleaning and rocks for weighting bodies. Leaving her to her organising Blake moved back to join Neeshka and Gann.

"I hope she disposes of those corpses well," Blake commented, wiping off his blade. "Be a distraction to have to deal with any pirates wanting to avenge their leader. Not that it is likely they would want to, even if they learned who was responsible."

"She seems efficient," noted Gann, watching as the room was restored towards its version of pristine condition.

"And the fight went well enough," Neeshka added.

"Both true, though I _was_ going to offer to burn them in their ship rather than annoy Zorah with an immediate fight."

"That would have been good as well," Neeshka conceded, "though lacking the personal touch."

"Yes," replied Blake, glancing at Fyldrin and the results of Neeshka's 'personal touch'. "Let's check the back rooms before we leave. It's unlikely we'll find anyone worth recruiting sleeping things off, but it won't take long to be sure."

Entering the rear of the Inn they glanced down the short corridor and Blake felt his hopes diminish further. There were not that many doors and this more private area was just as dilapidated as the main room. If his uncle's inn had been this bad then Shandra would have probably demanded to be taken back to sleep in her burnt out house.

"This door is open," Neeshka reported.

"Was it open _before_ you fiddled with the lock?" teased Blake, feeling the corner of his mouth quirk in a smile.

"Me?" Neeshka asked in reply, widening her eyes in faux shock. "Pick a lock? What sort of girl do you think I am?"

"A wonderful one, so never mind."

Blake reached for the door handle and carefully opened it. He did not want to upset someone by waking them but also did not want to make this seem too sneaky-slow. A waft of air escaped the door and he felt his eyes water and vomit rise in his throat in a way it hadn't since the time he'd taken a club to the crotch in a harvest brawl. Glancing in Blake shook his head. "Gods, could they not change the mattresses at least once a decade?"

"Seems not," replied Neeshka, "where is the pleasant scent of a burning zombie when you need it."

"I think this smell is more powerful a ward against intruders than any I could scribe," Gann said, holding his nose slightly as he stood well back.

Blake shut the door, careful to not close it too fast and cause too much of a draught to carry more smell. "Let's quickly check the other rooms and get outside to clear our noses with the aroma of rotting fish," he said, not as sarcastic about the rotting fish as he would have liked.

The other doors were no more promising save for one that looked very slightly better quality. Leaving that for last they checked room by room, opening each door just a crack to see what smell emerged. Each room was just as stinky as the last and this discouraged them from opening the door far enough to see inside. They did not want more of the stench to escape and if there were an occupant they were either very drunk or the source of the smell, and either would make recruiting them less welcome. Finally though was the last, marginally, less ramshackle door and to their relief no foul odour escaped the crack and Blake was able to open the door fully for them to peer inside.

"Hey, this is more like it," Neeshka said approvingly, glancing around the quite large and clean and habitable room. "Seems someone is staying here though."

Blake peered in past her, looking for discarded clothes on the double bed or personal items on tables. "What makes you say that?" he asked as he saw none.

"The _trap_, silly…" Neeshka replied, crouching and starting to fiddle with the nearly invisible wires crossing the floor.

"Aye, still…" said Blake, waiting for Neeshka to finish and stand before he moved further into the room, "if we have to stay in Mulsantir long this might be worth renting if it becomes available."

"Definitely worth renting," Neeshka replied with a grin and a wink. "I haven't forgotten what you said about a safe room with a lock and finding where I keep my emergency gold."

"Hahrmmm," said Blake, trying not to think about that for the moment. "Even without that motivation a few days to rest and…"

"Rest?" Neeshka teased.

"Rest and prepare for the journey home, and see if we can send a message ahead of us would be useful…"

"Your mind seems to be skipping ahead," Gann commented, raising one eyebrow, "or have you forgotten the _small_ matter of the bear-god and his army."

"Not forgotten it," replied Blake, looking around the room, "but I'd rather be optimistic and think it worth making plans for after we confront him." Gann nodded to this so Blake continued. "From the Witch-Warden's comments you'd probably be soon leaving Mulsantir as well. We could use a guide if you were willing to travel in that direction and there seems enough room to screen off that corner for a cot if you didn't find other beds for those few…" The swirling circle of a portal opened as Blake approached that corner. "Nights," Blake finished.

"If I would have a portal appearing by my bed I think not," Gann said calmly before adding, "Besides I expect you snore."

"He does," commented Neeshka.

"Hmm, looks like they kept that corner clear for the portal," Blake said, ignoring Neeshka, "and it looks like the one in the Veil Theatre. So they must know it is here and of Shadow Mulsantir despite the Witches efforts to suppress the 'rumour'."

"Who cares?" complained Neeshka, disappointment plain in her voice. "Important thing is I'm not sleeping… or doing anything else… in a room with a portal, can't put extra locks or traps on it like you can a door."

"So much for this room, which means so much for this Inn as somewhere for privacy," Blake sighed. For a moment his frustration threatened to erupt in a Qara level display of petulant power, but he restrained himself as though Vladek and Zorah should have their inn disinfested they did not deserve this to happen by it being burned to the ground. With an effort Blake tried to look on the bright side. "Still this portal appearing means now we don't have to go looking for one of the others."

A few preparatory spells and managing to get his chainmail hood up to protect his neck, his helmet on his head, and his shield on his arm made Blake feel better about facing whatever was beyond the portal. They had done fine against the Pirates but could not count on always being that lucky. Gann agreed and showed he had his own magic to further strengthen them. Blake recognised some of this and out of a sense of politeness and wishing to learn more of his ally decided to speak.

"Are you a Druid then?" enquired Blake.

"Oh, please," Gann replied repressively. "I have more patience with those than with the misguided fools within the various churches but even druids worship a 'god' that supposedly embodies their idea of the land. There is nothing I have seen that suggests the existence of 'gods' such as they worship. My power is a gift of the spirits of the land such as those I have talked to and such as the bear-god and his army that wait for your blood."

Blake looked a moment at Gann, wondering if this made him a reliable ally if he was so closely tied to the spirits. "I hope then that fighting the spirits will not cause them to withdraw this gift…"

"Spirits fight each other often," Gann interrupted, "they do not concern themselves with grudges or the past or notions of alliance. The moment is all and if that moment brings battle then so be it. They, and I, do what seems right and what feels most apt for the now."

"Hrm," chuckled Blake, "whereas my inclination is towards planning, as you saw with my trying to think ahead to the journey after the battle."

"At least this 'tree-worshipper' is prettier than the last one," Neeshka commented with a grin at Blake.

"Well…ah," Blake stuttered before realising there was not really a good way to reply. If he said Elanee had been prettier then Neeshka would pout and, with his apparent ego, so might Gann. If he agreed with his sweetheart then she might tease him about preferring a male Hagspawn to a female Elf.

"'Tree-worshipper'?" mused Gann. "That does sound vaguely disrespectful towards Druids, but a tale for another time as the gifts of my spirits and your… friend's… gifts from the weave are fading."

Blake nodded and strode forward into the portal. There was the usual sense of disorientation as they passed through and to their surprise found themselves on the riverfront outside the Shadow-Sloop Inn rather than within. Blake hoped this was not a common pattern as had this portal been shifted the same amount in a different direction they would have been in the river and that could have been a problem as he was wearing his full armour. As much as Mithril was light and restricted your movements less for the same protection his Full Plate was still more than heavy enough to drown him.

"This place resembles Mulsantir," Gann commented, "yet everything seems muted somehow."

"Aye," agreed Blake, "a shadow or, was described as, a dark reflection. We likely need to head north, the sister we seek may be in dead Myrkul's vault and that is likely where the Temple of Kelemvor is in 'real' Mulsantir."

"Gates are closed," Neeshka pointed out, "let me see what I can do…" However as she examined the lock she frowned. It was large, it was crude, and it seemed rusted solid. Experimentally she prodded its innards with her largest lockpicks as those were sturdy enough to let her apply some force without bending. "Hells, Hells, Hells… this is not working."

"Might have to find another portal after all, though that wall does not look impossible to climb."

"There does seem activity at the other end of the dock," Gann pointed out, "perhaps they would have a key. Or a ladder."

Neeshka gave Gann a look that showed how little she thought of either idea. "This isn't the sort of place you come unless you want to stay hidden, I doubt they would be willing to share."

"I agree…but I do not feel inclined to let them have a choice in the matter," Blake nodded. "We need information and if they become hostile that is their mistake."

"Have you considered trying charm rather than force?" asked Gann, amused by Blake's confidence.

"If you think you can talk a peaceful solution," Blake replied, "I am more than willing."

"Excellent," said Gann with satisfaction. "As I pointed out back at the prison that _is_ my skill, though I do prefer to charm the ladies, and the dark to be of the night rather than of dreary shadow."

Blake nodded and they approached the group of people lurking in these shadows. Something about the man who seemed to be their leader betrayed him as a hardened warrior and the others standing with him were clad in robes that could conceal weapons or contain mages. It was not a peaceful looking group to approach, but then again Blake mused they could be thinking the same about the group approaching them. Be unsure about a helmeted man in full armour, a man in leather armour with a spear, and a woman whose cloak could conceal weapons but not conceal her deadly grace.

"Eh? What's all this?" their leader demanded. "Has Shelvedar gone and hired more lugs? What happened to Gullen and Vinck?"

"They're with him in the common room of the Sloop as they share a few drinks," Blake replied, deciding on honesty and ignoring Gann's hiss of irritation.

"Hah! Useless! A shame they weren't watching their room. Bad luck for them, and for you."

Blake twisted as he sensed a movement to his right and a dagger scraped across his armour rather than slipping between the plates and between his ribs. His arm had been drawn back to his side as he turned so he straightened that in a right cross. The punch did not land, but his assailant did have to duck back away from it and give Blake a moment to continue his arm's motion and swing it back to his sword hilt. Swivelling again Blake drew his sword and turned to place his shield between himself and the group they had approached, while the dagger man suddenly found himself outmatched in length of blade.

Neeshka had suffered a similar attack and her full lips tightened in annoyance as her nice new cloak got its first cut. The stab had been well placed but unfortunately for her attacker her cloak was not only heavy enough to have concealed her movements but also heavy enough to tangle his blade for a moment as his blow dented the cloth around his hand. Neeshka's hand came up to the clasp of her cloak and released it even as she dodged, reliving herself of the weight and letting that weight fall on her attacker's hand as he tried to draw his dagger back. His weapon smothered in a thick fur cloak the attacker grabbed at the cloak to try to free it, but this distraction was fatal as Neeshka used her forearm blade to split his face open.

Fortunate enough to not have someone appear from the shadows to try to kill him Gann had been able to lunge forward between Neeshka and Blake as they turned. The leader, or at least the spokesman, of these people Blake had made enemies of with his honesty managed to parry Gann's spear thrust and the robed figures fell back behind his protection. Gann spared a glance for where Blake had managed to back his attacker against the riverside wall and seemed to be playing with him. A couple more spearthrusts and parries and he spared a glance for Neeshka who had drawn her rapier but was duelling with two more assailants who had been a second or two tardy in their attack. As Gann thrust his spear out again he heard the robed figures start chanting and wondered why Blake didn't hurry up.

Blake knew what his attacker wanted him to do, as much as the wall prevented retreat it also presented the opportunity for Blake to get his sword trapped. Too hasty a blow might miss his nimbly dodging enemy and leave his blade embedded in, or between, the logs of the wall. Blake dabbed his sword out like a cat patting at a mouse to get it to be amusing and start running around again, short controlled movements that rarely did more than cut another gash in the dagger-man's leather armour. Finally one short twitch sideways of Blake's sword cut one strap too many and a flap of padded leather folded back down. For a moment his enemy's arm was entangled by this, his attention distracted by the need to free his arm, and that was all the chance Blake needed. Having an entangled arm suddenly ceased being a problem as the dagger-man found his sternum and heart ruptured by first a sword blade and then by the magic discharging from that blade.

Pulling his sword back out of the corpse's chest Blake half turned and saw the robed mages complete their spells. Reality shimmered and the winged form of a Horned Devil appeared near one as he summoned it to his aid. The other attacked more directly and magical missiles spewed from his hands and towards Gann and Blake, but by some chance most curved towards Neeshka. Her attention on the two foes she was facing and her back to the mages these almost caught her by surprise. With a grace and speed that astonished Blake every time he saw it she twisted and caught most of the impacts on her small shield or where her armour's fine Mithril chainmail was reinforced by leather or extra padding.

This movement and the impacts still put her off balance though and one enemy thrust at her with a shortsword. Neeshka parried this and counter-struck, but that left her even more off balance and vulnerable to the dagger thrust of her second foe. More magical missiles streaked in and this man had just enough time as he moved to attack to be pleased the Tiefling would be further slowed. Then that pleasure changed to surprise and then pain as those missiles continued their curve past Neeshka and into him and his comrade. He staggered back, the thin unenchanted leather he was clad in providing almost no protection, holes burned straight through it and into him. Neeshka regained her balance and her rapier flicked out once, opening a wound on his belly, and then, as his hand clutched at that, flicked out again and sliced the side of his neck open just behind and below his jaw line.

The man collapsed to one side, rapidly bleeding out, and Neeshka stabbed at her second foe. He tried to parry but she twisted her thinner longer blade aside and back in at an angle so its tip met his wrist and sliced its way up the underside of his arm. The man's hand relaxed, he was too well trained to drop his shortsword completely but his hand went numb with the pain and he almost lost his grip on it. Neeshka twisted her wrist back the other way and whipped her rapier's tip out of the man's arm and up and across his throat. He fell and Neeshka turned to grin at Blake, only to see his attention had turned away from her in the few seconds it had been since he cast that Missile Storm.

"Nicely done," Gann said to Blake as he thrust his spear in short stabs at the winged Demon, or Devil, Gann did not much care which. "Got any ideas for this?"

The winged creature snarled down at them as it batted one monstrous hand at Gann's spear thrusts, like a man waving at a fly. "No spells of _Banishment_ prepared," replied Blake, "and all Devils and Demons are immune to fire."

"Are we going to have to do this the hard way then?" Gann asked, drawing his spear back and raising a howl from the winged creature as it grabbed the spearhead enough for the edges to cut its hand, but not enough to stop it moving and deepening those cuts.

Blake ignored the complaint and the howl as he muttered his invocation and hoped this would work. This was a spell he'd cast before so he was confident that he could cast it again, but there was still the chance the Horned Devil would be able to resist the effects of the magic. He completed his muttering and a beam of _Disintegrate_ hissed from him. The Devil's hide was far stronger than the leather armour of the men Blake had hit with his Missile Storms but anyone had seen siege engines at work knew a door might shrug off rock after rock the size of someone's head but a battering ram concentrating the same force in a smaller area and all at once would splinter it. So it proved with magic as well as the _Disintegrate_ burned into the winged creature's crotch and hip and it staggered to one side with pain and as that leg was partially severed.

Things of the lower planes could be astoundingly resilient though and Blake doubted this would be as fatal to this creature as it would be to a mortal. Rather than attack directly though he looked at the man who he had spoken to and who was now in view rather than this being blocked by the winged figure. Blake started to mutter a second spell that he had more confidence in as he had cast it in armour before and quite recently. A globe of magic-created acid formed in response to his spell of _Vitriolic Sphere _and streaked away from him. This almost ruptured prematurely as the Horned Devil tried to straighten up and the sphere nearly brushed its side and wing. Only almost though; it reached its target and burst over the man to drench him in acid and send a cloud of corrosive vapour across the mages and the back of the Devil whose back arched in pain as its tail and wings began to sizzle slightly.

Seeing this Gann darted forward, his spear thrust out at the wound Blake's magic had opened where their foe no longer had its thick hide to armour it. The winged creature managed to turn and put one massive hand in the way. Gann's spear slid between the bones of the creature's hand, the spearhead emerging from the palm, and Gann's jaw tightened as he felt his spear become trapped. The winged creature snarled at Gann and began to bring its other hand around to grab at the shaft of the spear to wrench it both from its hand and from Gann's grasp.

Neeshka slid forward, her speed and grace making her almost appear not to move so smoothly did she close the distance. She brought her rapier up above her head, holding it almost vertical as she laid it against one of the creature's wings, and then she sliced it downwards. The sharp edge of the blade and the magic on it cut deep into the wing and then through it. Compared with the rest of it the wings were quite delicate and from its reaction seemed rather sensitive. Forgetting the pain in its hand it roared and swung its un-speared hand back in a blow that could have taken Neeshka's head off if she was several times slower in her ability to duck.

As the blow passed harmlessly over Neeshka's head Gann planted his feet firmly and pulled back on his spear, using his own strength and the way the winged creature's body was twisting with the blow to pull this free. Blake also saw a chance and made his own attack, stabbing his sword into the side the creature had presented to him, his blade piercing deep into the creature's guts below its ribcage. Blake then pulled his sword back while wrenching to one side so it cut its way out of the creature's belly along part of the depth of the wound. This slowed the withdrawal though and meant Blake was moving sideways rather than back out of arm's length of the foe.

The creature brought both hands up and together above its face, its back curving backwards and careless in its rage of how bending backwards opened the edges of its belly wound. It brought those interwoven fists down, its knees bending to bring its weight into this crushing blow as it tried to turn Blake into pulp. His armour would have done little to protect him but as the creature bent Gann moved. The butt of his spear slid across the ground as he thrust it forward at an angle. Then the momentum of the Devil's blow carried its face down onto the spearhead and Gann almost lost his grip as the shaft of the spear bowed and wriggled in his grasp under the stress.

Despite Gann's tugging his weapon seemed wedged solid with the spearhead driven deep in the Horned Devil's skull and the butt driven slightly into the ground until suddenly the winged creature vanished, returning in death or defeat to whatever plane it had been summoned from. Gann nearly slapped himself in the face as his spear pivoted around where it was still trapped in the ground and Neeshka giggled slightly at the frown he gave his spearshaft. Blake ignored this as he was more concerned with the effects of his _Vitriolic Sphere_ on the man. Acid wounds were even less pretty than most wounds were. One of the man's eyes was clouded and white and the acid had eaten large patches of his clothes and exposed skin away. The mages had come through this better as they'd thicker robes to protect them and had not been at the centre of the spell.

"You expect this to stop me?" demanded the man as Blake started forward. "An hour with a cleric and I'll be as good as new, you though… they'll never find all the pieces I am going to cut you into."

Gann managed to work his spear free of the ground and joined the cautiously advancing Blake, staying a little behind and to one side to let Blake meet the attack with his large shield and thicker armour before Gann used the longer reach of his spear to counter-strike. The man's eye flickered back and forth between them as he assessed them and shifted his sword in his hand as he thought.

"Deal with the Hagspawn," the man ordered the mages, his voice harsh with anger and pain, "the acid thrower is mine… wait! Where is the Tiefling girl?"

A gurgle of blood was his answer as one mage found himself looking at a rapier blade coming out of the centre of his chest before a moment later this withdrew back through it again with a slight twist and a discharge of magic. Neeshka stepped casually away from the falling body and glanced at the man. "You are not the only ones who can sneak," she calmly pointed out as the mage died and the other mage started to turn in shock.

Blake sprang, his sword licking out in a blow the man barely managed to turn away with his own sword. But it seemed Blake had only come that close because the man had been distracted by Neeshka killing his mage. Blake's next strike bothered him less as he sidestepped and let it pass. Then the duel was really on and Blake had to bring his shield in line fast to block, matching less frequent but strong blows from behind a tower shield against this man's lightning fast rapid strikes. For now it was a stalemate with the question being whether Blake would tire from having to move the weight of his shield around so much or the man from constantly moving to attack or dodge.

The last mage gabbled an incantation as Neeshka advanced on him and Azuth, _Patron of Mages_, had mercy on him as despite his haste he managed to create an Orb of Sound and send this into Neeshka. She staggered back as her body vibrated like an out of tune tuning fork, ripples of shock chasing each other across and through her armour and body as the magical sound spent itself. The mage did not have time to appreciate his success however as a spearhead tore through his body and was then torn back through the other way. Having mercy on the man Gann whipped the other end of his spear around and let the iron bands of the butt crush the side of his skull rather than leaving him to die slower.

Meanwhile Blake was feeling a little hard pressed. It seemed his shield was constantly vibrating from deflected blows and for every strike he made the man had moved and was no longer where the blow was aimed. Offensive magic was of little use in such a fight, Blake could not afford the few seconds of concentration even a simple spell would require, but at least the magic aiding his fighting skill was keeping the fight more even. Finally Blake saw an opening and swung, realising halfway through his attack as the man twisted out of the way that he had been fooled.

The man's sword slammed into Blake's forearm, but Blake reacting to shift the arc of his swing slightly meant he took the blow on metal rather than below it at his leather-covered wrist. The well-crafted armour held but even so the impact jarred Blake's arm, driving it out of line and numbing his hand. Blake moved back a couple of steps as he concentrated on keeping hold of his sword despite the numbness in his fingers and on getting back behind his shield. The man moved to press the advantage he had won but suddenly had to jump back to make Gann's spear thrust past him rather than into him.

Glancing between Blake and Gann the man hesitated to decide who the greater threat was. For now the armoured man's swordplay would be affected and maybe there was a chance before that foe recovered to draw the Hagspawn into another spear thrust and cripple or kill him with a counterattack? Turning slightly to keep them both in sight the man felt agony bloom as metal and magic carved across his shoulder blade. His arm dropped to his side and he had just time to realise it must have been the Tiefling before he saw the armoured man step forward. Just time to note the clumsiness of the blow and that he was right his enemy's swordplay was still affected. Just time until the world swirled around him for an instant before blackness took him.

Blake glanced at where the severed head had come to rest and shook his own head. "I don't think I could have beaten him in a fair fight."

"_What_ have I said to you harbour-boy?" asked Neeshka.

"Yes I know dear, a fair fight is for idiots. Winning is what matters."

"A good philosophy for backstabbing," Gann commented calmly.

"And for war," corrected Blake. "Any advantage is good, you don't tell two-thirds of your army to not attack to make the numbers even."

"True," Gann admitted with a nod, "I doubt the bear-god has brought his army to outnumber us simply so they can watch as he challenges you to single 'heroic' combat… of course I doubt if your lady would let you indulge in single combat while she was there."

Neeshka nodded as she searched the headless corpse; glad the soil was absorbing most of the blood rather than this pooling like on the floorboards back in the inn but not as glad at how little there was to find. The few gold pieces and a ring or two without magic she discreetly diverted into her pouch to share with Blake later and the other thing was an open envelope. Curious Neeshka glanced at the letter inside and then straightened with supple grace back to her feet. She smiled as she saw Blake admire that grace but then held the envelope and letter out to him.

"Look at this…"

Blake reached out and then with a muttered 'hold on' unstrapped his shield from his arm to lean it against his leg and have both hands free to take things. Knowing her harbour-boy was only human Neeshka held her Ring of the Scholars over the papers to give him the extra light his eyes needed. "Ah," Blake mused, looking over the contents. "So, Shelvedar is a spy for Thesk… well, he has certainly been more helpful than the Witches."

"Screw them," said Neeshka with great feeling, "I say we just burn this letter."

"No, we will show them the letter," Blake replied, to Neeshka's surprise. "But… not yet, they seemed upset when we asked them about Shadow Mulsantir and that was to help me find aid to face Okku and solve the problem they wish solved. If I were to waste their time with something unconnected to that problem think how upset that would make them."

Neeshka grinned as she understood what Blake was saying. "True, they did seem to feel we should be concentrating on that problem," she said.

"They do have a sense of priorities," Gann added, not caring greatly either way about Shelvedar but not averse to tweaking the noses of the Witches, "and appeasing the bear-god would be their highest one."

"Ah, as sad as it might be if Shelvedar made an escape in the meantime," sighed Blake, "that is a risk we shall have to accept to not upset the witches by bothering them prematurely."

"Very sad," Neeshka said, trying to look sad and managing to only to look slightly less full of mischievous cheer for a moment before her grin broke back through.

Blake strapped his shield onto his back while Neeshka unwound her cloak from around the one assailant's hand. After cleaning off their weapons and armour with rags torn from what few parts of the clothing of the corpses had not been soaked with blood they moved back towards the portal and through it. The lighting in the room was far better than in the Shadow Plane and they managed to remove a few more specks of 'evidence' from their clothing. Neeshka concealed herself back under her cloak, Blake swapped helmet for hat, pulling back down his chainmail hood, and they moved back out and to the main room of the Sloop Inn.

"Blake," Shelvedar greeted, hearing the distinctive clank of armour heavier than was customary in Rashemen, "let me buy you a drink. They say that generosity makes one wealthy in friends, and since I am poor in all else, I will take what I can."

"I shall gratefully accept my friend," replied Blake with a smile, "we found a portal to the Shadow Plane and fighting has worked up a thirst."

"A…a portal," Shelvedar said, concern entering his eyes.

"Aye, and the leader of that group had a letter," Blake cheerfully responded before adding, "not that while Okku is still at the gate I would have time to read such a thing and see whose name was mentioned."

"Of course not," Shelvedar agreed, exchanging a look with Gullen and Vinck.

Blake met Shelvedar's eyes with his own. "And even had I read such a letter and discovered someone was a spy, well…" He shook his head. "Until Okku is dealt with I could hardly take the time to trouble the witches with such news."

"True enough," Shelvedar replied with a slight smile of relief, "they can be impatient."

"Indeed, far better to not waste those few minutes…" commented Blake. "They made that clear last time I spoke to them. Of course once Okku is dealt with…"

"You would, of course, feel obliged to notify the witches," Shelvedar said understandingly. "With their spies and magic it could be unhealthy to keep such a discovery from them."

"Of course," agreed Blake with a nod. "I'd not be a good guest in their city otherwise."

"Well my friend, I wish you luck with the bear-god and the witches," Shelvedar said, leaning back away from the bar. "Unfortunately I have an appointment in Shou Lung with a merchant who swore I would always be welcome in his house. A journey of several thousand leagues begins with a single step and I had best take that step as soon as possible if I am to find if he was lying about this."

"Good fortune in your travels," replied Blake, adding after a moment, "and if you are ever on the Sword Coast, and I have made it home, then a welcome would also await you south of the City of Neverwinter, and north-east of the village of Highcliff, at Crossroad Keep. You would be watched…"

"Not letting anyone sneak around after what happened with Bishop," Neeshka muttered. She'd have been keeping an eye on him if she hadn't been keeping a far closer eye on Blake that night. That her harbour-boy had managed to deal, very satisfyingly, with her and with the trouble Bishop caused didn't change her resolve to not let something like that happen again.

"But you would be welcome as a friend and as a merchant," finished Blake.

"I doubt the Lord of that Keep would be as welcoming as you… ah," Shelvedar smiled before that smile faded as he connected Blake's certainty about his welcome there with the quality of Blake's equipment and realised who he was probably speaking too.

Blake simply nodded. He might have shown Shelvedar his signet ring but he had not thought he would need to impress any wax seals while fighting the King of Shadows and that ring did not fit over or under his gauntlets and was not comfortable on a cord around his neck. And even if he had brought that ring with him then the Red Wizards would likely have stolen it so he still would not have had it now.

"A generous offer my friend," Shelvedar admitted, standing fully. "For now though I think Shou Lung shall be my aim."

Blake watched as Shelvedar and Gullen and Vinck made their way out and then with a slight shrug made his own way to the door. Zorah gave them a slight scowl as they crossed the room, she had watched the conversation and though it had been a relief that it hadn't ended in a fight it had been annoying that it had ended with Shelvedar leaving rather than continuing to order drinks. The least those three could have done after slaughtering some customers, and then running off another three, would be to stay a while and buy some drinks themselves.

As they got outside Blake glanced up at the stars that had revealed themselves and then down at the map by the light of the moon, "The location Sheva marked is close, and it is dark. We may be in luck."

"If you call it lucky to be able to return to the Plane of Shadows," Gann pointed out.

"I call it _irritating_ to have to return to the Plane of Shadows," corrected Blake, leading the way up the short slope from riverside to marketplace, "but lucky that we might not have to wait. Those half-celestials yonder are the siblings whose sister we seek and how patient they will be for us to make the attempt I don't wish to test."

"Ah, they do look doughty warriors," Gann admitted, noting also how Neeshka was moving slightly wider past them. "And the way the spirits rage beyond the walls we need all the warriors we can get, even if that means yet more shadows to endure."

"Not just shadows to endure," grumbled Neeshka.

Sure enough as they travelled down the side street a swirl of darkness formed itself into a portal. Blake looked at this with some disfavour as he again pulled up chainmail hood, swapped hat for helmet, and put the weight of his shield on his arm rather than his back. Neeshka was also anticipating a fight and carefully folded her cloak and stowed it in one capacious magic bag rather than risk more damage to it. After a glance back down the street to see if curious eyes had noticed them and the portal or Neeshka's lovely tail being revealed Blake stepped forward and in. It almost seemed the world had not changed but even nighttime Mulsantir had more colours in the silver of moonlight and the yellow of lanterns than the Shadow Plane could possess.

Working on the assumption Myrkul's vault here would be in the same place as Kelemvor's temple in 'true'-Mulsantir Blake led the way around and up the hill. He was thankful the gates on the hill were open unlike the ones down to the riverside. What he was less thankful for was that it looked like not all the shadows ahead of them were a simple absence of light.

"Whoa!" Neeshka exclaimed, her eyes and her alertness both better than Blake's.

"Those… are some very large shadows," Gann commented as their movement also allowed him to discern their shape.

"I defeated one before," Blake replied confidently, "and that was being enhanced by a necromancer. These won't be as tough."

"Let's hope so," Gann said, "since there _are_ two of them rather than just one."

Blake grunted in agreement as the towering figures moved towards them. They were almost as tall as the first Avatar of the King of Shadows had been but lacked its strange bony-looking armour. Various ideas flitted through his mind for the best tactics before he just growled to himself and charged, disdaining subtlety. This seemed to take the Nightwalkers aback and one had barely begun to swing its hand down to swat Blake to the ground when Blake's sword carved through its lower leg. There was no flesh to rend, no bone to shatter, and no blood to spray but the shadow form reacted to this strike in much the same way.

The Nightwalker crumpled to one side as its leg gave way. Blake brought his sword back and stabbed it upwards, meeting the descending chest and neck with its tip and cutting it from sternum to chin before the point dug in under the chin and up into what would have been the shadow's skull. This trapped Blake's sword and he had to release it and step aside as the Nightwalker finished its fall to the ground. Blake drew his dagger in case his faith had been unfounded but to his complete lack of surprise saw this precaution was unnecessary.

Distracted by Blake's charge the other Nightwalker had turned a little and then regretted its distraction when Gann stabbed it where if it had been human its belly button would have been. This would not have been immediately fatal even for a creature of flesh and was less so for a creature of shadow. As Gann pulled his spear back and the Nightwalker turned back to attack him Neeshka had seemed to appear from nowhere to deftly run her rapier over the back of both of the Nightwalker's knees. The great shadow collapsed and Gann's spear darted forward again and into its chest as it sprawled onto the ground. Neeshka bounded back in to slice its throat open and add a little guarantee to Gann's strike.

Both Nightwalkers seemed to shimmer and then dissolve back into the shadows of this plane. This was a relief to Blake as it released his sword but as he moved to pick this up an angry Tiefling intercepted him. Almost literal fires were dancing in her beautiful eyes as her tail lashed with her displeasure. "What the Hells was that?" Neeshka demanded, glaring at him as he sheathed his dagger. "You been talking lessons in finesse from Khelgar? You lost your sword in that thing!"

"I trust you," Blake replied simply. Neeshka did not seen placated by that so Blake added, "I trusted that you… and Gann… would use the distraction. I trusted that you and Gann would destroy the other Nightwalker before I needed my sword. I trust you."

Neeshka continued to glare. Part of her anger was at herself though as she realised she was not sure she wanted that much trust. For years she had needed to rely on herself alone and be alert for chances to betray or avoid being successfully betrayed. Putting herself in danger and trusting someone would save her would have been utter stupidity in that life, so it was a hard adjustment to make or to accept Blake trusted her so implicitly. There was still part of her that was sure Blake would wake up one day and realise his mistake in loving a former thief with Infernal blood. Decide that she was no proper consort for a good Harbourman and especially not for a Knight of Neverwinter.

Blake, unaware of Neeshka's thoughts, had continued on and picked up his sword. Her tail was still lashing slightly and Blake took a moment to admire how that made her rear sway, and another moment to give Gann a look to warn him off also admiring this, as he confirmed the Nightwalkers had left no residue on his blade. Gann coughed and turned his attention to the building before them.

"This does not resemble its counterpart in Mulsantir," Gann commented, looking the Death God's Vault up and down. "Strange, even with the changes in your gods of the dead."

"Not so strange," replied Blake. "By reputation Myrkul was a cruel God who wished people to fear death and that this was their inevitable fate. Kelemvor is more dispassionate, if death is inevitable then fearing it or not fearing it is irrelevant, what is _is_."

"You speak as if you think these things are real," Gann sneered. "As if this change was more than just what the 'priests' chose to believe."

"I think there are greater things than us, and some of them are worshipped as Gods. But leaving them aside it is still not so strange the difference. I doubt the Witches would allow a Temple with a huge skeleton jutting from it in Mulsantir."

Neeshka had turned and gave Blake a weak smile as she tried to distract herself from her own fears. "Would overshadow their high place," she commented.

Blake saw how weak that smile was and started to feel concerned. Neeshka saw the concern on his face though and not wanting to admit her fears to herself let alone him hurried ahead. Blake watched as Neeshka checked the door over. He wanted to know what the matter was but he did not want to distract her as she worked so he remained silent.

"All clear," Neeshka reported over her shoulder, denying Blake the chance to look her in the face. "No traps and not locked."

"Very well," Blake said, moving to follow Neeshka who had slipped inside as soon as the door had opened a crack.


	5. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The Death God's vault was even gloomier than the Shadow Plane outside. Neither shadows nor death had to be evil, they were simple impersonal facts of existence, the reverse to light and life which themselves did not have to be good. Myrkul though had been a malevolent rather than, like Kelemvor, dispassionate god of death and this malevolence seemed to linger here. Neeshka had moved away from the door and was looking down at a pool.

"Is that blood?" asked Neeshka, keeping her face down and so hard for Blake to see.

"I hope not," Blake replied, finding it hard to judge colour in this plane. "Hmm…is that a glint in those shadows?"

"More than a glint harbour-boy," corrected Neeshka, looking across, and then managing to smile convincingly to Blake, "there's a half-celestial there."

"How…" Blake began to ask, peering into those shadows, "oh, of course your eyes are practical as well as beautiful."

They continued on, avoiding the pools in case they were blood, and after a dozen strides or so even Blake could see the half-celestial. To his surprise her armour was almost as heavy as his was rather than being leather like the half-celestials in Mulsantir had worn and while their skin tone had been similar to his or Neeshka's this woman's was closer to Gann's. This made Blake wonder if she was the lost Kaelyn the Dove but from the way Neeshka was reacting to her presence she did seem to be a half-celestial and it seemed unlikely there would be more than one female half-celestial in this place.

"There are few who would brave the tattered black gates that tie this shadow Mulsantir to its twin," the woman spoke, her voice somewhat tragic sounding. "Yet you have come, brave or not. What is your reason for coming here? Has something called you to this place?"

"If you are Kaelyn the Dove," replied Blake, "then _you_ are my reason for coming here."

"I am, what business do you have with me?"

Blake glanced at Neeshka who was circling around and pretending interest in the mosaic to keep her distance from Kaelyn. "Then Tymorra has blessed me with good fortune in my search. Your siblings have been looking for you."

"That does not surprise me," said Kaelyn, also glancing at Neeshka and then at Gann "My siblings are loyal and, often, quite persistent… no doubt it was Efrem or Susah who you met. Possibly both."

"They did not share their names," Blake admitted, "but one was tall with a helmet with broad antlers and the other was shorter with raven-black hair."

"Efrem and Susah, the Stag and the Crow," nodded Kaelyn. "I have been cut off from the Menagerie for some time and it seems they have not given up the hunt. But it would be unlike them to surrender such a hunt, especially for their sister."

"They would be here themselves, but they felt it would violate their faith to enter this place. I have promised to return you to them."

"I cannot leave, not yet," replied Kaelyn, to Blake's annoyance. "I seek entrance to the depths of this Vault. The next stage of my pilgrimage lies there and this gate before me is but another obstacle placed in my path."

Blake looked at the gate, the strangeness of it making it hard to look away again, and then with a slight effort back at Kaelyn. "It does not appear to have a lock to be picked; do you know how to open this gate?"

"I have stood before this door and studied its surface for days countless," Kaelyn said poetically, "and let my eyes fall upon the black on black, the thin etchings of its surface. If you relax your eyes to the shadow, you see the true depths of the artistry of these mosaics, some written in ash, others in shale, slate, and dyed tile-black. Within these shades is a key. And once unlocked the path will continue on."

"She could have just said no," Neeshka muttered, sidling to Blake's side.

"Hrm," muttered Blake back with a nod, "or no, not yet."

"Take a look at this harbour-boy," Neeshka added, raising her voice to its normal level, "look familiar?"

Blake took a few steps and peered at the mosaic. He had to admit to himself that Kaelyn was right about the artistry of the work as Deneir had blessed its creator with great skill. Although old looking the tiles were still gleaming in their shades of black and grey and though the scene was chaotic the details of the depiction were clear. It was a battle somewhere, a melee of humans and fiends and others he did not recognise. There was a huge fiend in the centre of the battle and facing it a much smaller man, his sword raised above his head and its strange irregular shape and gleaming silver nature unmistakable even in mosaic form.

"Aye, familiar," Blake said, absently rubbing his chest, "The Sword of Gith…"

"Do you know that blade?" asked Kaelyn, showing some interest at that. "That figure holding it is Akachi, sometimes known as 'Akachi the Betrayer,' for leading a revolt against his own God. His blade was said to be a sword of silver. Its surface flowed like water over allies and friends, but it could wound the spirits of any enemy it touched."

"I know it, that is the Sword of Gith, she who led her people out of Illithid slavery before they warred and split into the Githzerai and Githyanki."

"I have heard of Gith," commented Kaelyn. "I wonder how Akachi found such an artefact and what happened to it after he fell."

"I don't know, but whatever happened to it in the intervening years the sword was found again a few decades ago by a warlock called Ammon Jerro. He needed a weapon against the shadow-weave corrupted guardian of Illefarn. Unfortunately the blade shattered in his hands when he struck."

"So it is lost again?" asked Kaelyn, her voice becoming yet more tragic sounding in her disappointment.

"I think so. Until recently, and since I was a baby, I had a shard of it stuck in my chest. The sword was reformed using the link that had formed between myself and it, but that link was broken when as well as taking the sword from my hand some abductors also cut the shard from my chest. Where the sword is now and whether it is back in pieces without the link I do not know."

"May Ilmater have comforted you for the suffering such cutting must have caused," said Kaelyn gently.

"Thank you," Blake responded with genuine gratitude.

"As to the blade, I feel it may be important but I trust that mystery may be revealed in time. Until then I must seek answers about Akachi, the man rather than his weapon."

"Can you not delay that search?" Blake asked, remembering his purpose in being there. "Your siblings are concerned and you can return once you have reassured them."

"No," replied Kaelyn simply before adding. "I have not explored far beyond this Great Hall as Myrkul's priests, now mummified, still carry out his rituals in the side chambers. Until I was ready, until I had completed my studies of this gate, I did not want to reveal myself to them."

"They sound a problem," Blake admitted, feeling suspicious as to what was coming, "but not one your leaving for a while would worsen."

"I cannot lie to others of the Menagerie," explained Kaelyn. "If Efrem or Susah ask me of what dangers I face here I will have to tell them… and if I tell them then they will insist on aiding me. I do not wish them to come here and further defy Kelemvor or our grandfather."

"Ahhhh," Blake breathed as his suspicions were confirmed and Neeshka narrowed her eyes at him as she knew his helpfulness. "So before you are willing to leave this place you would require it to be made safe so your siblings do not feel they need to accompany you back?"

"That is my thought," admitted Kaelyn calmly. "If it is unacceptable to you then you are free to go, but I would ask you to do what I cannot and lie and tell Efrem and Susah I am safe and need no help."

"Come _here_ harbour-boy," Neeshka demanded, her lips tight.

"Excuse me a moment," said Blake diplomatically.

Kaelyn nodded and turned back to her silent contemplation of the mosaic and door. Gann paused and then joined Neeshka and Blake as they moved away. Neeshka gave Gann a slight glare but visibly decided not to protest as she accepted this was his concern as well. Blake and Gann looked at the irritated looking Neeshka for a moment before she spoke.

"She is manipulating you," Neeshka accused, "taking advantage of your conscience by saying you can leave her in danger and lie to her brother and sister about it."

"I disagree," said Gann, earning a frown from Neeshka. "I think she is speaking nothing but pure truth. How we react to that truth is not something I believe she would consider."

"My instincts _are_ to help her," Blake admitted, "but whatever my heart says my head has a question. Would whatever we might face here be more dangerous than facing Okku's army without the aid of her siblings."

"I know little, nothing almost, of fighting undead," replied Gann. "In Rashemen it is rare that a spirit doesn't move on or, if worthy, become a Telthor. What I do know is the power of the bear-god and that his rage was painful to my senses even when we were well away from the gate and walls."

Blake nodded, that seemed to be a vote for helping here. "Neeshka?" he asked as she remained silent.

"I'd rather get as far away from her as possible," Neeshka said, frowning at Kaelyn. "Even if Gann is right, and she is not trying to play your good nature like a lute, she is still making my skin crawl worse than even her siblings did."

"So you think we should leave her?" asked Blake, keeping his feelings out of his voice.

One corner of Neeshka's mouth quirked in a fond smile for Blake. "I think you would feel bad if we did, and that unless we hit her on the head and drag her out of here we're not getting her back to Mulsantir without helping her first."

"And if we did that then her siblings might decide to not aid us," Gann pointed out, "feel you have violated the spirit if not the letter of your promise."

"Very well, we will aid her in exploring this upper level but, even if we find a key to that gate, we are not going deeper if she decides to descend rather than return. My conscience and the aid of her siblings is not worth that much."

They moved back across to Kaelyn who turned to face them with serenity that Blake found unsettling. She seemed to not care what they had decided, to not care whether she was going to be left staring at a door or be helped to find answers. That patience more than her wings reminded Blake that those of the upper planes in their enlightenment were alien to the thinking of mortals while those of the lower planes with their lusts were, unfortunately, much easier for mortals to understand.

"We will aid you," Blake informed her, "let us see what we can find together on this _upper_ level."

"Let us see what good we can achieve by our alliance," replied Kaelyn, not betraying if she noticed that emphasis, "and may Ilmater bless our endeavour."

As Kaelyn spoke she also gestured slightly and for a moment the Death God's vault seemed to be lit. Blake felt a measure of extra strength and skill enter him and realised there was more to Kaelyn's words than just words. "You are a Cleric of Ilmater as well as a follower?"

"Yes."

Blake nodded and moved across to the door to the right of the gate down. He tried it and crouched slightly to peer into the lock as best he could. With gauntlets on he knew he had no chance of picking it and even at his best he had less chance than Neeshka did. "Can you do anything with this my love?"

Neeshka came to join Blake, wincing almost imperceptibly as she came closer to Kaelyn who was gazing at the door. Blake noticed the wince though, his love for Neeshka making him sensitive to her expressions, and he wished he had tried to pick the lock himself. "Let me see," she said, inserting a lock-pick. She fiddled for a few minutes, concentrating as best she could with Kaelyn nearby and trying different angles to apply pressure, before shaking her head. "Hmm…no."

Blake nodded. "Well, at least that makes it easier to decide where to search first," he commented before starting towards the other side of the chamber.

"Wait," Kaelyn protested, as much as her supernaturally calm voice allowed, "are you sure this door cannot be opened?"

"Believe me," replied Blake, "if Neeshka cannot pick a lock then there are very few people in this world that could."

"That I can believe. She seems…experienced at such things."

Blake looked at the two women looking at each other, the one with blood of the lower planes and the other with blood of the upper. It was possible that as much pain as Kaelyn's presence was inflicting on Neeshka that Neeshka was inflicting the same on her. Blake considered asking Kaelyn if this was the case but there was the problem of how to ask without also revealing her effect on Neeshka. As Blake tried to think of some way the moment passed, so he shrugged and resumed moving towards the open doorway.

Passing through the doorway the room ahead seemed empty until with matching groans Mummies lurched forward out of the shadows. Kaelyn had at least been right about what was present, though Blake did not get the impression that enough intelligence remained in these forms for them to perform rituals. Stopping almost in the doorway Blake blocked the passage of the others.

"Why…" Kaelyn started to ask.

"Wait," Blake replied, watching the slow approach and how the mummies funnelled together as they passed between the same two stone tables

He started to chant and cast his spell of _Firebrand_; the single ball of fire formed and split into a few that struck the Mummies. The dry old cloth wrapping them blazed into flame with the eagerness of kindling and barely had the fireballs struck before the Mummies were almost covered in those flames. But while those flames ate at their wrappings rather than the almost equally flammable desiccated flesh beneath them they continued to shuffle forward.

"Congratulations," commented Gann sardonically, "they were hostile, now they are hostile and on fire."

"True," Blake admitted, before switching to his command voice, "_Retreat!_"

Neeshka moved instantly, though this was the effect of her trust in Blake rather than any effect of his voice. Kaelyn and Gann moved a few steps automatically, obeying without thinking, before they realised what they were doing. As those few steps had moved them out of the way of the doorway and Blake was continuing on, assuming they would follow, they kept on after him after a brief hesitation.

Blake was loosening the straps of his shield as he moved back at a fast trot towards the doorway out. He bent and slid this shield off his arm and then straightened and reached into his magic bag and withdrew the longbow that appeared too long to fit in such a bag. With practised skill Blake reached back in, withdrew a bowstring, and then hooked the loops at each end over the ends of the bow. A glow announced the mummies were making their way through the doorway, pressing together and hampering each other as they shared their flames with each other.

Another dip of Blake's hand into his magic bag drew out a quiver of arrows that he quickly hooked onto the loop his armour had for that purpose. Seeing what Blake was doing Neeshka had taken her shortbow from that magic bag and strung it, though the smaller size of her shield meant she was able to use her bow with it still on her arm. As Neeshka drew a quiver of arrows from that same magic bag Blake flexed his chest and back and longbow and then released an arrow towards the Mummies. Even with the dimness of the Shadow Plane the fact these were burning made them visible to human eyes at bow range.

There was a slight spark from the stone floor as the arrow missed, whistling past the mummy's legs and skipping off the floor into the wall. Blake drew another arrow from his quiver, pulled back on his bow, and sent another arrow towards the mummy, but again with no result than a spark of metal against stone. Even at their slow shuffling pace the Mummies were getting closer and Gann gave Blake a look of concern.

"What are you trying to…" Gann began to say, before trailing off. "Oh."

Blake's third arrow had more luck than the first two, or less luck for itself since it started burning, and thunked into the mummy's knee. The undead's already unsteady gait became far more so as the broadhead arrow sliced through that joint. A living creature would have been felled by this, by the pain of the hit and by the pain of trying to use the mangled leg, but the mummy managed to keep shuffling until Blake's next arrow went into its other knee. As it finally fell the mummy was reduced to crawling and dragging itself towards them.

Neeshka had realised faster than Gann what Blake was intending and though her bow was less powerful than Blake's her skill with it was, perhaps, greater. Another mummy fell as her bow sang and the arrows quivering in them destroyed its knees. Something as small as a knee was not easy to hit even at this relatively short range but as the mummies lurched closer this became simpler.

Blake cursed to himself as a mummy toppled to one side and his arrow missed. Whether through happenstance or some remaining intelligence the mummy had either fallen or thrown itself into one of the pools, their motions were so clumsy it could have been either. As Blake expected when the mummy rose from the pool it was no longer alight and so Blake shifted his aim to one that still was. One that if forced it to crawl would likely burn completely before it reached them.

"Eww," Neeshka commented, "what a smell, but at least it answers the question of it that was blood or not."

"I find it disturbing that you recognise so easily the smell of burnt blood," Kaelyn sniffed, a tinge of disdain entering her otherwise emotionless voice.

Neeshka ignored this in favour of putting another arrow into a mummy's knee, hers arriving a moment after Blake's and sending that mummy to the floor. Blake glanced at the approaching foe, at the two still on their feet and the three crawling determinedly, and nodded to himself. Rather than draw another arrow he instead grasped the quiver and unhooked it before crouching and swiftly placing it and his longbow on the floor. Straightening he drew his sword into a two-handed grip.

Kaelyn saw this and did not wait, she sprang forward, her wings flapping once and adding their own impetus to that of her legs. She had chosen the walking mummy that was still on fire and as it swung at her little fragments of burning cloth came free from its arm and fluttered to the floor. Kaelyn easily deflected that blow with her shield and then brought her mace around and crunching into its skull. Old dried bone crumpled around the head of the mace as the blow nearly took the mummy's head off, the desiccated flesh of its neck tearing rather than stretching. As the mummy fell Kaelyn whirled her mace back and around in an arc to place another blow into the mummy's back and turn the age-weakened vertebra of its lower spine into dust.

Blake's attack came a moment later, directed against the mummy that had managed to extinguish itself. His sword was longer than Kaelyn's mace and his shield was on the floor so he used that extra reach. In some ways his tactics were the reverse of Kaelyn's as he first swung for waist rather than head. The mummy's arm was still by its side but the power of the blow and the magical keenness of the blade sliced through its decayed arm bones with ease before almost cutting the mummy in half. It collapsed to the floor, held together by only a few strands of cloth and flesh, and Blake used the subtle method of taking a quick stride forward and then stamping on its head. There was a distinct crunch as if he had accidentally stepped on a snail and as the upper jaw and cheekbone were pulverised a few teeth escaped to scatter across the floor.

Glancing across Blake was pleased to see Kaelyn had been satisfied to leave the mummy she had dealt with to burn with a few feeble twitches. Gann was also being cautious and simply using his spearhead to taunt a crawling mummy into crawling in circles as it finished burning. This mummy soon subsided, as did the other ones that were on fire, and though the smell was unpleasant the light of the fires as they continued to burn did add a certain cheer to the room.

Blake gave the not-burning mummy a suspicious glare and considered whether its bandages were too sodden with blood from the pool to burn if he tried re-igniting it. Deciding they were he instead gave his sword a quick wipe before scabbarding it to free both hands, then crossed to where he had left his things and unstringing his bow put it and his quiver back in his magic bag. After a moment's consideration and taking the time to strap his shield back onto his arm Blake wandered across and started looking for the arrows that had missed the mummies and thus not been burnt.

Neeshka rolled her eyes as Blake picked up the arrows and examined them. Arrows were cheap unless they were imbued with magic, and if they were thus imbued that magic would discharge when they hit something and make them as little worth scavenging as arrows that had never been magical. On the other hand, Neeshka smiled, even if Blake did think it worth his time to try to save a few coin on arrows he did also think it worth far more coins to make his Tiefling happy with gifts. Or far more time on just making her happy in other ways.

"I can see why you were being cautious," Blake commented to Kaelyn as he tied the used arrows together with a cord.

"With Ilmater's aid I would have prevailed," replied Kaelyn. "But I do thank you for the assistance."

Blake nodded to this and, having stowed the few arrows away, drew his sword and led the way back into the now mummy-free room Neeshka inclined her head subtly towards the vases and skeletons and Blake shook his equally subtly in return. It was not likely Gann or Kaelyn would object to some looting, or that there was anything of enough significance out here that removing it would draw the wrath of dead-Myrkul, but no need to take the chance. Neeshka gave an exaggerated pout before winking and continuing on past the chance for far more gold than several quivers of unenchanted arrows would have cost. As they approached a set of short stairs Blake hesitated and looked around.

"Do you hear that?" Blake frowned, tilting his head and considering removing his helmet to hear better.

"Sort of scratchy," replied Neeshka, her backward-swept pointed ears larger than Blake's and uncovered. "Sounds like you working your way through ledgers."

"When did you ever hear me do that?" Blake asked, glancing at her with some puzzlement. "As I recall writing was the last thing on my mind, on either of our minds, when you were in my room and near my desk."

Neeshka just smiled and let Blake be paranoid about whether that had been the first time she had been in his room, or whether there was some place she could have concealed herself where she could hear what he was doing. Blake shook his head and decided that for now there were things of greater importance to dwell on.

"I can feel spirits around us, but not hostile," Gann reported, "in fact barely aware of our presence so intent are they on a task."

"The scratching in the air…" Kaelyn said with realisation. "They are the spirits of the scribes, still penning Myrkul's scriptures even in death."

"Even in the death of both them and Myrkul it seems," Blake commented.

Descending the stairs Blake looked at the Gong placed at its base and then at the great books on equally large stands around the chamber. The gong was as old as the rest of the vault and the centuries that had passed had coated it with tarnish. Nevertheless the etching on it was still clear in how it depicted a procession of scribes each carrying their quills and books as they walked. Blake extended his sword hand, hesitated, and then lightly skimmed the pommel of his sword in a glancing blow across the Gong.

As the gong reverberated the spirits faded into view. Each was intent on their own great book, their quills tirelessly passing across the pages with the constant scratching that had revealed their presence. Even when Neeshka came and peered over one's shoulder he ignored her and continued writing. Blake looked at them and considered whether to interrupt their work with speech or deed, but then he noticed one scribe not writing. That figure's attitude and the slight extra ornateness of his robes seemed to suggest he might be in charge so Blake crossed to him instead.

"Greetings," Blake said simply, half expecting to be ignored.

The ghost turned with the slowness of a rusted shut door, something that had not moved in years and was unaccustomed to the idea, to look at Blake. A flicker of puzzlement lit his eyes as he finished turning and his eyes met Blake's. After another moment the ghost remembered how to speak as well as move. "A tale of deception is writ plain upon your soul, supplicant," the ghost said, "and you are both the deceiver and the deceived. You will not find truth within these walls, but when you see the lies for what they are you will return to us I think."

"Pardon?" Blake frowned slightly again. "What deception? And what lies? Can you speak plainly?"

"I cannot," replied the ghost. "My eyes are trained to read the words and discard the meanings. Thus it has always been. I am Deimodias, Chief Scribe, and supplicant before the Lord of Bones. All that passes through my lord's gates is recorded within these tomes and ledgers. We record, my scribes and I, but we do not remember. Our scribblings are the mind and the memory of Myrkul's vault."

"Ah," Blake breathed with a small degree of understanding, "so you know things have been written, but not what those things meant. But Myrkul was slain long ago so why do you still labour here for a dead God?"

"It is words that bind us to the Vault of our Lord," Deimodias replied. "Our souls are graven upon its walls, our names writ upon its foundation stones. When one scribe replaced another the name of the old scribe would be wiped clean and he would be free to pass beyond, to the City of Judgement, to join with the Scriveners who came before." The spirit paused and let out an immaterial sigh of memory and longing. "But supplicant, a great betrayal was committed here and we stood by and watched…. so taken were we with the traitor's resolve… with the dream that he spun for us, in words and deeds. And when that treachery was put to an end we were held to account with all the rest. Ours was a simple retribution, an effortless thing. No more scribes were appointed and our names were never wiped clean… and so here we remain."

"You speak of Akachi's Crusade?" Kaelyn asked almost eagerly. "You witnessed it."

"That is what we called our treachery, yes," replied Deimodias, face and voice souring in bitter memory. "A pretty mask… to hide an ugly face."

"Or now you use an ugly mask to hide a beautiful one," Kaelyn contradicted.

"If you were mere bystanders then your punishment hardly fits your crime," interrupted Blake before the two could argue.

"Ah, but you do not know the nature of our treachery," Deimodias commented. "We have always held that our punishment was just and deserved, so we will speak no more of it."

"I see no justice in this," protested Kaelyn, "only that you were martyred for your deeds."

"I _said_ we will speak no more of it," Deimodias replied firmly. "Do you have other questions?"

"We seek entrance to the lower level and knowledge of what may be found there," said Blake, not entirely truthfully as that was Kaelyn's goal rather than all of theirs.

"All that is contained within our ledgers you will find in the chambers below," Deimodias informed him. "Ancient tomes… prisoners… and treasures of the faith."

"Prisoners after so long?" protested Blake in disbelief.

"This is a vault of a god of death," Deimodias pointed out, "his servants still linger, so may his imprisoned."

"Indeed," said Blake, lips tightening at that idea before he continued. "What sort of ancient tomes? I have a book that mentions something called the Lamentations of the Dead, which could be of use to Kaelyn here."

"The Lamentations of the Dead?" Kaelyn asked in surprise. "I have heard of this, you know more than I thought of the path I seek to follow."

"Every book of the faith was brought to this Scriptorium and copied by my scribes…or those that preceded us," replied Deimodias. "All were delivered into the archives below to be tended by our mummified remains, even after our souls ascended to the City of Judgement."

With that Deimodias turned away and back to his massive ledger. Blake wondered if they were going to now be ignored as the spirit narrowed his eyes, but the words Deimodias was mouthing to himself seemed strangely familiar. Pondering how he could be almost comprehending a language he had never heard before took long enough for Blake that Deimodias finished and turned back to them.

"And yes," Deimodias finished, having consulted his records, "the scroll you seek is contained in the archives below."

"But how do we get the gate open?" demanded Kaelyn, feeling that knowing how to get to a scroll was as important as knowing it was there.

Blake glanced across at Neeshka just in time to meet her eyes as she glanced at him. Kaelyn might now be more motivated to get past that gate and descend into the lower level but this news did not change things as far as they were concerned. They had agreed they would not descend and this exchange of glances was enough for each to confirm to the other this agreement still held.

"Our high priest held the key," Deimodias calmly replied. "I do not know his fate… it is not recorded in our ledgers."

"Then we shall discover his fate," declared Kaelyn confidently.

"Hmm," Blake said, wondering if politely saying 'we' earlier had made Kaelyn think he shared her goal. "Well, farewell to you scribe."

"And to you supplicant…"

Blake glanced back the way they came, back up the short flight of stairs and nodded as he looked at the open doorway. Unless they left, which Kaelyn would refuse to do, there seemed only that way. Cautiously climbing the stairs and flexing his sword-arm a little to loosen it for use Blake peered through the doorway. There seemed another rectangular pool of blood beyond crossed only by a narrow bridge.

"Caution," Blake muttered.

"Worried about traps harbour-boy?" asked Neeshka.

"Traps. Ambush. If the bridge is rigged to collapse or tilt. What might be lurking beneath the blood…"

Despite Blake's paranoia they managed to cross the bridge without dying, though as they neared the far end they slowed. Three armoured figures were kneeling before an altar and were kneeling with perfect stillness. Blake tried to move quietly to study them without them noticing. It wasn't clear if they had died while at prayer or had died while at prayer but were still praying now in undeath. But he'd barely managed to note how battered and charred their armour looked before they rose. As expected the faces beneath the helmets were nothing but skull, and even without flesh to form expression they conveyed hostility and hatred.

"What mortal dares to disturb us?" one grated, speaking without breath or throat to shape that breath "You will never leave this place alive, and when you are dead, I shall see to it that you join us in our eternal vigil."

Neeshka snorted. "I've been waiting too long already, not letting you make me wait an eternity."

For a moment Blake was baffled, to the extent that the first attack almost caught him by surprise. His reflexes took over and he parried but then a blush of embarrassment rather than exertion spread across his face as he realised what Neeshka had been waiting for. There had been a distinct lack of private, safe, and comfortable places the last few days. Given fresh motivation by memories of why he had not slept much before the final battles against the undead at Crossroad Keep Blake struck. As in the chambers beneath the barrow his sword was more than a match for the aged armour covering these undead. This armour seemed less decrepit but his sword still sheared through it and the bone of the forearm beneath. To make matters worse for their undead foe it was they that were outnumbered rather than vice versa.

Gann stabbed his spear out, the head sinking precisely into one eye-socket of his chosen target. He shifted his grip on the shaft and levered his spear upwards; there was a distinct popping noise as the skull came free of the spine, the joint unable to support the weight of the undead's armour as Gann lifted it onto its toes. The weight then came onto the top of the skull as the chainmail hood beneath the helmet came taut, the spearhead moving upwards slightly as the bone of the forehead was crushed between it and this hood. Gann pulled his spear back, the cracks in the skull widening as the spearhead tore free, and the undead fell. The force of the fall finished what Gann's spear had done, its skull fracturing into shards of bone that no longer had the shape to hold the helmet on and, as that bounced away, spilled out of the chainmail hood.

Kaelyn swung her mace at the undead with the misfortune to be facing her, and crushed one upper arm into powder. Such a blow would have broken Blake's arm despite his better armour. Against an undead that had neither padded shirt nor flesh to cushion a blow, both having rotted away, it was devastating as the shock of the blow transmitted straight into bone made brittle and dry by age and death. Without skin and muscle to keep its arm together the undead suddenly found that arm nothing but bones settling into the end of the bag its sleeve and gauntlet made. The absence of flesh also meant an absence of pain though and the undead simply started to attack with its other arm. Started, but not finished as Kaelyn brought her mace back and then stabbed it forward in a short punching blow into the open face of the helmet. The undead collapsed backwards as the front of its skull was crushed into powder.

The undead Blake had attacked had staggered back a step or two. It had been less inconvenienced by Blake's blow than its fellow had been by Kaelyn's as its forearm had been taken cleanly off rather than its entire arm dangling at its side to hamper it. But it had still wanted a little room to move and now it used that space to build a little speed as it hurled itself into a charge at Blake. With good, though not perfect, timing Blake sidestepped and then slammed his shield into the undead to deflect its charge a little and keep it going and slightly off balance. Neeshka dropped, pivoting and sweeping one graceful leg around to trip the undead. There was a clank as the undead fell onto its chest on the stone floor and then a brief scraping noise as its breastplate slid across the short distance between where it had fallen and the edge of the pit before the undead went heels-over-head into the blood. Blake turned and watched but there was no sign of the undead rising out of the blood. Cautiously he crossed and looked down and saw no sign of it.

"At least now we know how deep that blood is," Blake commented.

"Rather too deep," replied Gann, casting a look at the edge, "and although even laden as I am I could swim I prefer not in such a pool."

Neeshka, with her better sense of priorities, had already begun examining the two destroyed undead she could reach to make sure they really were destroyed and see if they had anything useful or interesting secreted about them. Kaelyn had watched this with a little disdain for the practised ease with which Neeshka went about the process. "Key here harbour-boy," Neeshka reported, ignoring though noting Kaelyn's attitude.

"I am glad it was on that undead," Gann gestured towards the pool, "rather than on that one."

Neeshka nodded and moved across to the edge of the pool, looking down into it with an expression of consideration.

"As Gann said," Blake pointed out, "rather too deep. We could try fishing with a grappling line, but it would be difficult to snag anything."

After a moment Neeshka shrugged prettily and came back to show Blake the key. "Looks like a normal key to me."

"Which implies it would fit a normal lock," Blake replied, "which means more likely the door than the gate."

"Only one way to be sure," grinned Neeshka.

They crossed the bridge again with mixed feelings. They were now confident that there were no traps but they also knew now just how deep the blood filling the pit beneath it was. The scribes had returned to ghostly invisibility though the scratching of their quills still revealed their presence. After giving the gate down to the lower level another long glance to confirm the slit down its middle bore little resemblance to a keyhole Blake nodded to Neeshka. She smiled and winked to Blake, conveying to him if not the others her feeling that using a key on a lock was cheating or at least not as much fun as picking it. The key smoothly turned and then there were two clicks from within the lock. Neeshka's eyes narrowed in mild suspicion as she tried to turn the key the other way, and as she had suspected found this impossible. A very slight push on the door moved it a fraction of an inch and showed it, unlike the key, was free to move.

"Door's unlocked," Neeshka reported, stepping back away from it a little, "but the lock has… well… locked and trapped the key so we can't relock the door or remove the key."

Blake nodded. "Hopefully we won't find anything we want to lock the door against. Gann?"

Gann looked at Blake a moment before understanding and reversing his grip on his spear. Holding it near the head he gently pressed the butt of it against the door, near the seized up lock, and pushed slowly but firmly. With a creak, though with smoothness that showed the hinges were still in good condition after perhaps not moving for centuries, the door opened and revealed another shadowed chamber. Blake moved forward to block the doorway with his heavy armour and shield, Kaelyn half a step behind him as her armour was almost as heavy and her shield almost as large.

"There," Kaelyn said, pointing.

Blake looked and nodded as the Mummy shuffled forward and into enough light for his merely human eyes to see. A groan from the other side of the room revealed there was a second Mummy, but no other groans or shuffling noises joined those two so it seemed there were just those two. Blake padded forward a couple of steps to meet the nearest and then twitched his sword up and drew the tip of it diagonally across the Mummy's belly.

On a living opponent that would have disembowelled them but part of mummification was removing the bowels. Blake's sword still sliced though layers of dry cloth though and its wrappings were a lot of what was keeping the Mummy together. As the cloth was cut and tension released the Mummy staggered and sagged slightly. Kaelyn took advantage of this opening and brought her Mace down in a powerful blow, lifting herself up onto her toes with a stroke of her wings so she could put her weight into it. As mace head met Mummy head the latter flattened like a wineskin being drained and seemed to vanish.

The other Mummy had found its forward progress arrested as Gann's spearhead sank into its chest. This would have been a fatal blow against a living opponent but the Mummy just kept trying to move forward, driving the spearhead deeper into itself as Gann held it at bay. With a ripping noise the spearhead tore through the cloth and dried flesh of the Mummy's back and it started sliding itself along the shaft of the spear. Despite this Gann seemed surprisingly calm for someone whose weapon was trapped and who could see an undead creature slowly but surely approaching him.

Then Neeshka stepped forward and her rapier flicked out three times, slicing the Mummy along one side of its neck, then the other, and then across the front. Any of those three slices would have been a fatal wound if the Mummy had blood still pumping through the arteries or breath through the windpipe she had severed. Against the Mummy it was still fatal, if such a word applied to undead, as the three cuts combined were enough to send its head bouncing off across the floor. The headless Mummy collapsed and Gann hissed in irritation.

Seeing Gann's problem Blake came back across to him and braced him. Gann nodded to Blake, and then lifted one foot off the floor to place it against the Mummy's chest and, as he also tugged back with his arms, shove it back off his spear. There was a slight crunch as the Mummy's ribcage splintered and Gann's spear came free. Gann nodded his thanks as he shook his spear a little to dislodge any remains stuck to it.

Blake nodded back and continued towards the opposing door. This opened into a corridor that led to their left and was lined by yet more vases. As they moved down this corridor Kaelyn suddenly paused and shuddered. It was hard to tell in the perpetual gloom, and with her skin already being grey, but Blake had the impression she paled slightly before she started moving down the corridor again. After a moment he decided to speak.

"What happened then?"

"Many died in this place," Kaelyn replied to Blake, looking distracted rather than serene for an instant. "Their spirits lie thick here, like smoke."

"I feel something as well," said Gann, frowning slightly, "there is turmoil ahead of us."

"Er, harbour boy…"

Blake looked towards his sweetheart and saw that, having been uninterested in whether Kaelyn was unwell or not, she had moved to be able to peer around the corner they were approaching. She was pointing around this corner so Blake took a few quick strides to join her and peer down into the chamber there.

"I see it, a still burning furnace," Blake commented. "Seems your analogy, Kaelyn, could be truth."

As well as a furnace burning without sign of being tended or refuelled, or even of having anything for it to be refuelled with, there were skeletons lining raised sections of floor to either side of the room. A strange glittering filled the air as if it was alive with fireflies. Blake closed his eyes for a moment and then shook his head, he could feel something wrong but Gann with his link to spirits or Kaelyn with her link to the god of martyrs were better suited to this.

"Truth indeed," Gann said, nodding at the skeletons, "if how those burnt skeletons look is how they died."

"I take it this is where many died and where the turmoil is," commented Blake. "Let us be cautious, I grew up in a Mere village so I know how an innocent looking patch of grass can conceal inescapable liquid mud to drown in…and with that sparkling this does not look that innocent."

"Ilmater preserve us if we are martyred to this cause," Kaelyn replied.

Neeshka snorted slightly at that as she would have preferred being preserved without the part about martyrdom. A priest of the Red Knight, with his domain of strategy to grant them a better plan, or of Tyr, with his domain of justice for those killed here, seemed like they would have been far more useful right now. Or failing that one of Tymorra, who she worshipped, to give good fortune in general or blessings of skill and victory. Gann also looked not completely grateful though his tendency towards being charming to ladies kept that reaction less obvious.

Blake slowly led the way down the short flight of stairs and onto the floor of the furnace room. This was damned peculiar, what purpose was there in having a furnace here? There seemed no Gnomish or Dwarven contraptions attached to it by pipes and no baker's ovens being heated by flue gases passing through pipes from it. What was this furnace feeding? Moreover what fuel was it feeding on?

"The turmoil I sense is becoming more focussed," Gann warned, "becoming more intense."

"I feel it too," confirmed Kaelyn, "like a whirlpool forming from rough waters."

The sparking in the air flared for a moment and Blake barely had time to nod to Gann and Kaelyn before charred skeletons summoned themselves into existence all around them. Without pause they hurled themselves at the party, burnt finger bones raking out to grab at shields and armour and whatever else they could reach. Although these skeletons had appeared out of thin air they proved to be more substantial than this as their combined weight pressed in.

"Hands!" Neeshka snapped as skeletal fingers made contact with her leather breastplate. She drove her forearm and the blade fixed to the bracer into that skeleton's face and it fell back, the front of its skull scarred by a great gash.

Gann shifted the grip on his spear to use it like a quarterstaff and managed to also send a skeleton back as he slammed the portion of spearshaft between his hands into its jaw. Other skeletons though were grabbing at his spear and he had to match their combined strength against his as he wrestled his spear back and forth. More skeletons were grasping at Blake and Kaelyn's shields, bone fingers closing around the edges of the shields and trying to drag them down or aside.

Lacking the room to swing his sword Blake instead raised his hand above his head and drove the pommel of his sword down and into one skull, easily smashing a hole into it. To Blake's annoyance with no brain to be pulped or spill out of that two-inch wide gap this did not seem to affect the skeleton as much as it would a living foe. It staggered but returned to trying to grab at his shield. Blake's mind ran through what spells he still had prepared and he began to wonder if they were going to be dragged down by sheer numbers.

"Not enough room to fight properly," Blake cursed, his ability to hit things with the pommel of his sword constrained by having to keep the blade away from himself and the others.

"I noticed," replied Gann, twisting his spear in the grasp of the skeletons holding onto it and ducking his head back to avoid one skeleton's attempt to claw at his eyes. "Can you get us some room?"

"These are already burnt," Blake pointed out, managing to smash another skull with his sword pommel, "so no _Firebrand_, and most other spells I have prepared would hurt us as well."

"Allow me," said Kaelyn calmly.

Blake was not sure what she was thinking but nodded. "Push!" he grunted.

Gann braced himself and shoved back with his spear against the skeleton, gaining a few precious inches of room as their toe bones slid over the stone floor rather than gripping like Gann's boot soles. Blake also shoved, his shoulder and side pressing against the rear of his shield and driving it against the breastbones of the skeletons that had been trying to pull it towards them. Neeshka had been avoiding being grabbed but, trusting her harbour boy, she pushed her small shield into the chest of one skeleton, the spike on its face crunching slightly into bone as she staggered the skeleton back a little and into a few others.

Given that tiny amount of extra room Kaelyn stepped back and into the gap the others had opened. She chanted a divine incantation and Blake felt some of his weariness and all of his scratches and abrasions swept away by a flow of healing energy. As this healing energy rippled out from Kaelyn it struck the skeletons and had quite the opposite effect. The energy of life coursed into them and drove out the energies of death that were animating these undead and, in the absence of ligaments and cartilage, keeping the skeletons together. There was a patter on the stone floor as the skeletons disintegrated into their individual bones and these fell.

"That spirit," said Blake, distracted for a moment as he noticed, "his robes are those of Myrkul but ornate."

"Fight now," Neeshka chided him, as the skeletons from outside the affected area began to advance, "ponder later!"

Blake nodded and swept his sword round in an arc at mid-chest level. His footing was not that good as although it was easy to avoid stepping on the larger bones there were a lot of finger and toe bones scattered across the floor. Fortunately the charred bone was weak so the small bones under his boots crunched to powder and the ribcages and arm bones of the skeletons he struck with his sword sweep shattered. Some of these skeletons managed to keep moving though as Blake had not severed the spine and they had no vital organs within their now smashed chests.

Seeing this Kaelyn decided to demonstrate the correct method and, having recovered from casting the healing prayer, brought her mace down in a diagonal blow. Its head met the skeleton's skull just above one eyesocket and continued on down, shattering across the nose and then upper jaw. Teeth and fragments of skull along with the lower jaw, now having that much less to be attached to, sprayed downwards. Kaelyn wrenched her mace backwards and then swung it in a horizontal arc into the side of another skeleton's skull.

Gann could see how weak the charred bone was but still did not want to risk his spearhead becoming wedged in that bone. So he continued to use his spear like a quarterstaff, bringing either end around in short horizontal arcs into skeleton faces or sometimes angling his spear across his body and using the lower end of it to smash a knee or shin. The charred bones were weak enough and the stone floor hard enough that sometimes the skeleton would break more bones in the fall but even they continued to try to claw at people from the floor. For a few moments at least until Gann kicked or stamped their skull or smashed his spear butt down on it.

A frown came to Neeshka's face as she saw Blake swing his sword back round at neck level and finish the skeletons he had only wounded. That was okay for her big clumsy harbour boy with his big clumsy sword but, as she had pointed out to him, she was kind of delicate and so was her rapier. Even Gann had realised there was nothing on these things to stab. Calmly Neeshka placed her rapier back into its scabbard, and then she leapt forward with panther-like grace. Her left arm swung and with that momentum and that of her pounce she drove the edge of her small shield into a skeleton skull to shatter it. Neeshka twisted to avoid the grasp of another skeleton and used that twist to bring her right arm and its forearm blade across that skeleton's neck bones and send its skull to the floor where it bounced a few times before breaking.

Neeshka jumped back away from another skeleton. This tried to follow but was only able to follow her as far as where its face met the spear butt that Gann had stabbed out. A quick smile and nod of thanks from Neeshka and she darted out again to claim another victim. Blake and Kaelyn continued their work as well with their contrasting styles. Kaelyn smashing individual skulls with quick short controlled blows that let her swiftly move on to the next and Blake sweeping his sword round in great arcs that took longer to recover from but which passed through more than one skeleton at a time.

The skeletons kept on advancing, nothing in their undead minds but the desire to swarm over Blake and the others and drag them down and kill them. Unfortunately for them their reach was literally arm's length and before they could get close enough to grab and claw they had to survive the attacks of the living. Gann's spear, even swung like a quarterstaff, and Blake's sword had considerably more than arms length as a range and though Kaelyn's mace was not that long it still added a foot or so to her reach. Neeshka was the only one that had to come within the skeletons' reach but she was so agile and quick they were incapable of taking advantage of this.

Like a puddle drying in the sun the mass of skeletons slowly shrunk, their feet covering less and less of the chamber as those in the middle were smashed and those around them pressed in to be smashed in their turn. Finally it was over and Blake took a chance and scabbarded his sword so he could brace both hands on his knees while he took deep breaths. Gann leaned on his spear like a lazy sentry, enough sweat on his face to look like the grey was from water-spirit ancestry rather than hag.

"Come on harbour boy," grinned Neeshka, her own face flushed with exertion and her eyes sparking. "I know you have more stamina than that."

"Please," Gann said, raising his head slightly, "no details of how you know that."

Blake gave Gann a weary look and then gave Neeshka a longer one. Maybe it was Gann's comment but he couldn't help remembering other times Neeshka's face had been that flushed, her eyes that sparking, and what they had been doing to put that happy glow on her face and other parts of her. With an effort Blake suppressed the memories and the ancient instincts that suggested what the best way to celebrate winning a fight was. To Blake's annoyance Kaelyn did not seem out of breath and was studying the priest-spirit rather than dent her aloofness by paying attention to the banter. Blake moved to join her and join her in looking at the spirit who was looking back at them. It seemed unlikely a staring contest with a ghost could be won as it no longer had physical eyeballs to dry out but even a ghost can feel the need to fill a silence with speech.

"Begone!" the priest-spirit demanded. "There is little enough comfort to be had in this crowded furnace. I won't let you throw yourselves into the warmth and crowd it further."

"What?" Blake asked incredulously, his opinion of that idea very apparent in his tone. "I have no intention of throwing myself into the furnace."

"Yeah, I'm as much warmth as he can handle," winked Neeshka salaciously.

"Why else, if not to enter it, would you come to Myrkul's Furnace?" the priest-spirit replied . "Go now and find some other warmth!"

Blake hesitated a moment. The reply that had sprung to his mind was that he'd already found 'some other warmth' and that if they could find a comfortable clean safe room then as well as being as much warmth as he could handle that would be the 'warmth' he would rather enter. Neeshka saw the look on Blake's face and giggled, both in agreement and at him being too embarrassed to actually say it. Blake smiled at her, acknowledging and accepting her amusement at him.

"We seek the former High Priest…" Kaelyn said, her mind on the task at hand.

There was a slight shimmer as Kaelyn spoke and Blake frowned as he peered at the form of a child that had appeared beside that of the priest. Neeshka noticed this and looked where Blake was looking, and then back at him with her own slight frown.

"What is it, Priest?" said the child-spirit, his voice somehow more ghostly than the priest's. "A supplicant come to join the Many?"

"As he may know how to open…." Kaelyn continued.

"Quiet…" muttered Blake, gesturing to Kaelyn for silence and adding a moment later, "please."

Kaelyn turned to Blake, her mouth opening to protest at the abrupt command. Then her protest subsided as she saw Blake was looking at something and his head was tilted as if trying to hear something.

"Nothing to concern yourself with, Child," the priest replied to the other spirit. "Recede back into the warmth of the furnace."

"But do you sense it?" the child-spirit asked, a hunger entering his voice. "Unlike others that have come, this one is compatible with the Many…"

"What are you talking about?" demanded Blake. "Compatible how?"

"Compatible?" Neeshka asked. "Who said that?"

"Why, I think it sees me," said the child-spirit in satisfaction, "and it hears me speaking to you. It is compatible."

"Do not even think that!" the priest-spirit protested. "It cannot see you or hear you…"

"Yes, I can."

"And if it could," continued the priest-spirit, a hint of desperation in his voice as he talked over Blake, "such a one could dominate the Many and silence my voice! I would no longer be One."

"Do not fool yourself Priest," the child-spirit said contemptuously. "You are One only because I granted it to save you from the Many's wrath. Do you wish me to wake the Brute?"

"How dare you?" exclaimed the priest-spirit. "Do you forget, Child, that before Cyric's usurpers cast me alive into the Furnace, it was I who fed you, nurtured you, and educated you?"

"Child?" Kaelyn murmured. Blake nodded slightly to her as he continued to listen.

"I have forgotten much, Priest," said the child-spirit in disdain. "But that is one detail I can never forget, as you have recited it incessantly since you joined the Many and I regretfully made you One."

"You should be grateful that I kept the secret of your existence safe throughout the hours of torture I endured for being the High Priest of a slain god!" the priest-spirit pointed out, reminding the child-spirit of past deeds. "For if I had let that detail slip, you and the rest of the Many would have been exorcised from the comfort of the Furnace and sent to the City of Judgement to become mortar for the Wall of the Faithless!"

"Enough," Blake interrupted, losing patience with the bickering. "I am curious about what you two mean by the One and the Many, but my concern is finding the key to the lower level. Which as you have identified yourself as High Priest we know that you possess."

"Did you hear what it said?" asked the child-spirit, like many children would ignoring most of what Blake said in favour of hearing only what mattered to it. "It _can_ see and hear me! The Brute must witness this! I will go fetch him."

The child-spirit shimmered again and vanished before either Blake or the priest-spirit could react. Blake sighed as the priest-spirit turned away, concerned with what the child-spirit was doing rather than answering him.

"'You two'?" Gann asked, taking advantage of the silence. "This priest did seem to be speaking to someone, do you also see them?"

"I too see only the spirit of the Myrkullite priest, but I sense the presence of others," reported Kaelyn.

"There was the spirit of a boy there, he seems to have vanished to fetch someone or something called the Brute…"

There was another shimmer and an Orc appeared, his malevolence apparent even as a ghost. Blake wondered though if he was actually any more evil than the child-spirit had been despite the innocent appearance of the latter. To be haunting this furnace suggested some crime from the child and his attitude towards the priest did not suggest a kind nature if even part of what the priest had said was true.

"Someone call me?" the Orc-spirit grumbled. "What's this, a living flesh-receptacle?"

"No, no Brute! Go back into the Furnace," protested the priest-spirit. "Yours is the last face I want to see, you mindless murderer!"

"You be silent, Priest!" the Orc-spirit threatened. "Or I'll leave here; find more of your still-living family to slay."

"Leave? You can never leave!" replied the priest-spirit, "and even if you could my family is already dead thanks to you, monster! Do you forget when I hunted you down for slaying my wife, my son? And then when I had you tossed, swearing, into the Furnace?"

"You…" the Orc-spirit growled, his voice low in his throat, "you be silent!"

"And I spat on you while your flesh blistered," continued the priest-spirit, taunting the Orc-spirit with the memory of his death, "and watched the spittle boil and evaporate on your forehead as your final words went unheard over the roar of the inferno!"

"Sheesh," Neeshka exclaimed with a hiss. "I don't know who he is talking too but that is some taunt."

"Looks like the spirit of an Orc," Blake told his sweetheart and the others, "and the Orc had threatened to try to find some of the Priest's descendants… which is unlikely after the centuries that have passed… so it was not unprovoked."

"Huh? Did the flesh-receptacle speak of me?" the Orc-spirit asked in surprise. "How can it see me?"

"Yes, you low-born son of a corpulent pig!" confirmed the priest-spirit. "The Child called for you to witness this. Some other one can see you and hear you as I once did when I lived."

"Well, you impotent worshipper of a dead god," the Orc-spirit replied, "let us grab it and take it into the Furnace so that it might join the Many."

"Try grabbing me," Blake said harshly, "and your previous death will seem merciful by comparison."

"And I am _one_ and I forbid it!" proclaimed the priest-sprit. "Eventually this one will tire of being ignored and will move on."

"Eventually?" Blake said, mostly to himself but in a tone that made it clear he was already tired of being ignored.

"Then let me speak to it myself," demanded the Orc-spirit. "I want out of this blasted Furnace, and this one may have the power to break us free!"

"I will not let you speak to it," the priest-spirit snapped, "now go back and I will deal with this."

"Feh! I was roused for nothing," replied the Orc-spirit, accepting rather that protesting the priest-spirit's edict. "It will take me some time to find a comfortable place among the crammed furnace. Do the Many a favour and be silent until then!"

"Oh yes, I will keep silent. The living have little patience for being ignored…"

"Got that right," Neeshka muttered.

"If I do not speak to them any more they will leave," concluded the priest-spirit.

"If you answer our questions then that would also allow us to leave," Kaelyn said reasonably. "The Chief Scribe said the key to the lower level was in your possession."

The priest-spirit looked at Kaelyn but firmly pressed his immaterial lips together rather than reply. The silence stretched as he stared at her, trying to look imperious and immovable and matching ghost patience against celestial. "Please, you must answer," Kaelyn requested, a hint of pleading in her calm voice. "I have come too far and done too much."

Another several moments passed with the two of them looking at each other before a look of fresh determination made its way onto Kaelyn's face. "Very well, we shall see whose patience breaks first."

"Er…" Neeshka said, looking worried and giving Blake a significant look.

Blake nodded to Neeshka. "Kaelyn, a moment please."

Kaelyn gave him a slight frown but, with visible reluctance, broke off her staring match and moved a short distance away to join Blake. "What is it?"

"Do you agree this upper level is now safe?" Blake replied with his own question.

"I do," admitted Kaelyn, "but…"

"Then that is what you can tell your siblings without lying. If you are going to spend days, or tendays, or longer staring down a centuries old spirit then, first, let us take you back to them. We can return you once they have been reassured."

"I am reluctant to depart when this spirit has answers ungiven," Kaelyn replied calmly but firmly.

"Understandable," said Blake, turning away slightly. "Gann, is there any way to 'encourage' this Priest?"

"My knowledge is of the spirits of the land, not the spirits of the dead," Gann pointed out. "I think our Dove here would answer that question better than I."

"And I think I cannot hurt him more than he already is. Even if I was willing to do such deeds he has suffered mental anguish for centuries, far more pain than I could inflict on his ghostly form. Patience would be our only weapon…"

"Then…" Blake replied to Kaelyn as inspiration struck, "let us deal with matters that could lead to impatience first."

Kaelyn thought for a moment and then to Blake's relief she nodded. "Very well, it will be good to see Efrem and Susah again and the memory of them and their devotion will aid me in my vigil here."

"Finally, we can go!" exclaimed Neeshka. This earned another slight frown from Kaelyn before her expression dissolved back into its customary serene blankness.

The way out of the Death-God's vault and back down the hill was still clear and they soon had the shock of being once more surrounded by colours and the sound of life. Even at this time of night where the colours were the muted tones of moonlight and the market was quiet it was a great contrast with the dark and the deathly stillness of the Shadow Plane. Neeshka donned her cloak again, they moved down and out of the side street, and Kaelyn perked up a little, almost looking happy.

"There are my siblings, Susah and Efrem."

"Kaelyn!" Efrem smiled, showing more of his pleasure than she did. "Little sister, it is good to see you on the Prime again."

"You need to stop flying from us," chided Susah, smiling at her sister. "Was your search successful?"

"I have made progress, yes…" Kaelyn replied.

Blake glanced away from the half-celestial reunion and back at Neeshka who was holding back. After a moment of thought Blake retreated to join her, as she was who he cared about rather than the conversation of the three siblings.

"What has happened in my absence?" Kaelyn continued by asking. "The city feels different, more turbulent."

"A ghostly beast is at the gates," reported Efrem, "a bear-god, awakened from his slumber and bellowing worse than Susah when she can't get her way."

"And worse than Efrem when I best him in duels with one hand tied behind my back and hopping on one foot."

"It is good to see you, my siblings," Kaelyn said fondly at the banter. "I have missed you…"

"How are you feeling?" Blake quietly asked Neeshka, ignoring the banter as Kaelyn had ignored theirs before. "With all three of them present I mean."

Neeshka winced slightly before she could stop herself. "I can handle it, don't worry harbour-boy."

"Of course I'll worry, but… I'll respect your choice."

Neeshka gave Blake a smile of gratitude. Coming from most people this would have been quite strong but compared with her normal brilliance this made Blake more concerned over how weak it was. He paused and then gave Neeshka a quick smile back before moving away without expressing any more concern.

"But how did you come to be here?" Kaelyn was asking. "I had thought that…"

"We would not let our eldest sister, leader of our humble Menagerie, go into exile alone!" protested Efrem heartily. "Who would feed us? Change our cages? Sing to us? Nay, to abandon you… I would sooner let the antlers fall from my helm like leaves!"

"Although the removal of your antlers would make it easier on door frames, my brother," Susah bantered. "Many still bear wounds from your entrance."

"I am pleased to see that the gravity of events has not diminished your charming rivalry," said Kaelyn deadpan, giving even her siblings a moment's pause where they wondered if she was being sarcastic before they relaxed.

"I have brought your sister Kaelyn to you, as promised," Blake said, rejoining them and taking advantage of that momentary pause.

"Indeed," replied Efrem. "We will also keep our promise and help you."

"Promise?" Kaelyn asked, having known of Blake's promise but not that it was in return for another. "What promise?"

"In exchange for finding you," supplied Susah, "we promised to help battle the spirit army beyond the gates."

"As I mentioned to him, back in the Death God's Vault," Kaelyn said with some annoyance, and a little disappointment, that Blake had not been motivated entirely by helpfulness, "it is not my intention to endanger you, my siblings."

"Ah, sister. We can take care of ourselves," Efrem pointed out, a little affronted at his big sister still trying to protect him. Even now that she was only older rather than bigger. "We are not unaccustomed to battle, or to great odds against us. Remember the Menagerie!"

Kaelyn ignored her brother and turned to Blake, her expression mulish and her lips tight with determination. "Please release them from their promise to aid you. I will help you, and that is enough."

"Is it?" asked Blake before continuing. "The bear-god is powerful; I need all the help I can get. And do you honestly think that if you fight by my side that your siblings would not insist on fighting him also? Promise or no promise they would wish to keep you as safe as you wish to keep them."

"So be it," Kaelyn replied, some annoyance in her dispassionate tones. Even if Blake was right that it was all or none of them that did not make her happy that he had not released the promise or declined her offer and allowed it to be none. "Though you had best ensure that my brother and sister are not harmed."

"And you had 'best ensure' that was not a threat against my harbour-boy," Neeshka called from the several feet away she was standing.

Efrem glanced back and forth as he felt the tension between Kaelyn and Blake and between Neeshka and Kaelyn, "He is right, we would not have let you face the bear-god without us Kaelyn, and we should keep the promises we have made."

"I can feel the army outside the gate," frowned Kaelyn, "they are here in great numbers."

"Gann," Blake asked, "would there be an advantage in waiting until morning?"

"I see none, these are not undead to be weakened by the sun and the moonlight is bright enough to see by," mused Gann. "In any case bear-gods are not known for their patience and that it has held this long is something of a surprise. As reluctant as he would be to harm Rashemi we should not rely on this surprise continuing."

"Very well," Blake replied, "and also best to fight now rather than risk being caught asleep."

"Let us pause a moment and consider our next course of action," Gann cautioned. "I do not think we should simply rush into this blindly, however short it is before this time runs out."

"If we can separate him from his army then Neeshka and I might be able to wear him down," suggested Blake. "His followers might expose themselves to attack trying to save him or be disheartened if he is defeated again."

"An interesting idea, but somewhat reversed," Gann smiled, looking a little smug and superior. "That would be logical were he a creature of flesh, a lord or a king to be isolated and killed to break his army's morale, but here that would allow him to win the day. Especially since his followers would not be as eager to reach him as you assume."

"Explain, please," frowned Blake.

"The bear-god came here with an army. Why?" Gann asked rhetorically. "That army sustains his rage and his strength, they are like a drumbeat for his heart and as long as they survive to sustain him you will _not_ be able to 'wear him down'. They will know this as well as we… as well as _I_ do and know that exposing themselves to attack is not how to save him."

"Ah," hissed Blake. "I may have been doubly misled by an experience with a necromancer. As well as what you pointed out about these not being undead to be weakened by the sun defeating that necromancer and forcing him to flee deprived his army of his strength. Which won the battle as his entire army burst into flame in the early morning light."

"Indeed, well here it is… as I said… the reverse," Gann said, raising one eyebrow. "Deprive Okku of his army's strength and you may be able to harm him. I will do what I can to let you know when he has been weakened enough but until then I would advise that we do our best to keep him at arm's… paw's length. Slow him down while we defeat his legions and then move on him, do it the opposite way as you were intending and _he_ will win the day."

"Very well," replied Blake, glancing around to check the others had heard, "we shall trust your judgement and I thank you for the insight and the warning."

"I am touched," Gann said, not managing to sound as sarcastic as he intended, "but let us see if our weapons can match our intentions."

The gates of the town were like a canal lock and surly looking guards shut the inner pair behind Blake and the others before the outer pair opened, both pairs of gates creaking enough to show Rashemi did not believe in greasing hinges. In the distance, just outside effective bow range, the spirit army waited. Blake wondered about that as they started down the road. Surely no Rashemi would commit the blasphemy of drawing a bow on the spirits, but then fear could overcome someone and they might have been able to loose one arrow before their fellows could throw them off the wall for this act.

Blake checked the straps holding his shield on his arm and the chinstrap holding his helmet on his head were still firmly tight, but left his sword in its scabbard as though he was almost certain this would end in battle that was not the same as entirely certain. The chance was tiny that he could avoid having to kill this god-of-bears, or at least fight him into flight or surrender, but that chance was one he wanted to take and approaching sword in hand would hamper this however much eloquence Milil blessed him with.

The army was larger than Blake had hoped. Ghostly animals and ghostly people surrounded the large and colourful and powerful form of Okku. Seeing this Blake was not sure which absence he felt more. He'd have felt better with long trusted companions like Khelgar at his back but hundreds of well-trained well-equipped Greycloaks would also have been very welcome. Seeing their approach Okku fixed his yellow eyes on Blake and glared, the moonlight reflecting off him making his colours seem more intense than the dimness of the barrow had, and looking as annoyed by this entire business as Blake felt. Blue-grey eyes met yellow as they locked gazes and matched wills silently for a moment before Okku spoke.

"So, you _are_ brave, after all," Okku rumbled deep in his massive chest. "Wood and stone would not have kept us from you, but it is good that the innocent are spared my army's rage. This can be ended quickly if you like. Present your neck. It will fit snugly between my teeth and we can all return to our dreams."

"Why should I die for the plots of Red Wizards?" Blake asked, as politely as he could. "It was not _my_ choice to be kidnapped and placed in your barrow and I attempted to leave it as swiftly and in as much peace as I could. To take nothing…" Blake ignored Neeshka mutter of 'spoilsport'. "And to only defend myself."

"It is not what you did, but what you _are_, little one," Okku replied. "Can't you smell it? The foulness of you drives all these spirits mad."

Neeshka had stowed her cloak while they were talking, now she leaned in and whispered quietly into Blake's ear. "Don't worry harbour-boy," she murmured, "I think you smell nice. Swampy but nice."

"You do not know what you are, not yet," Okku continued, "If you did you might ask me to kill you. Better that you never learn. Now we have spoken enough! I will live in a world that is free of you. Or I will die and dream no more."

"This brings me no joy, god-of-bears," Blake said simply, drawing his sword as Okku confirmed that combat was the only way to settle this, "but I'd rather live with my regret over killing you than pass to an afterlife and have to regret leaving Neeshka alone in a foreign land."

"And I shall treat your corpse with respect, little one, when I drag it from the field," Okku replied with the confidence being a bear-god with an army brought. "You have my oath. Tonight you will lie in the cavern of runes, and there you will stay."

Okku sprang and bounded forward at Blake who set his feet to meet the charge. An expression of concern passed across Gann's face as it looked like Blake had forgotten the instructions and intended to fight an unweakened Okku. At the last moment though Blake sidestepped, Okku's momentum carrying him past, and hurried a few steps out and back the way Okku had come. A muttered incantation and a _Greater Missile Storm_ peppered that flank of Okku's army with magical missiles to injure and distract them.

His claws skittered on the stone of the road surface as Okku turned and tried to reverse his charge. Then he howled as Neeshka darted forward and sliced the tip of her rapier across one thigh. Distracted by that pain Okku half-turned again to roar at the Tiefling who had retreated and was now waving her sword in short feints at him. Neeshka glanced past Okku and met Gann's eyes for a moment, he nodded and then his spear flicked out and into Okku. Rage began to fill Okku's eyes as he whirled and his mighty claws met nothing but air rather than leather armour and Hagspawn flesh.

Okku's army had tried to follow his charge but those on one flank had been staggered by Blake's _Greater Missile Storm_ and now Susah was loosing arrows at them, some of which struck those spirits and some of which Okku in his whirling got in the way of. Her siblings were also attacking, circling around clear of where Neeshka and Gann were trying to keep Okku isolated to attack the flank opposite to Blake. He saw them moving and saw that even with the extra speed their wings gave them, despite Efrem's size and Kaelyn's armour, this was going to be too close so Blake chanted and 'wasted' a _Fireball_ on the empty road between Okku and his army. Though the spirits had no bodies to be burnt the explosion still made them instinctively recoil, still broke the momentum of their charge, and gave the few extra seconds for the two Half-Celestials to meet them.

Efrem's Greatsword flashed ahead of him and through spirits as he got into reach of the foe, his strength and skill proving sufficient to drive his blade through the spirits in its path. Kaelyn was subtler, letting Efrem fight those closest to them she continued on a few extra steps to meet those in the centre of the disorganised mob trying to help their god. More spirits began to whirl and lose their form as Kaelyn smashed them apart with her mace.

Scant yards separated the spirit army and Okku but that seemed enough. If Okku had a moment to calm himself and think then he could ignore Neeshka and Gann and their painful but insignificant attacks and charge back, force Kaelyn to either get out of his way or find herself beneath his teeth and claws. But his thoughts were submerged in the rage of a bear-god to rend and tear what dared to hurt him, a rage that had built as he tried to control it during the long journey and the hours outside Mulsantir lest he unleash it and innocents suffer. Another stab from Neeshka, another wound that with the strength from his army was barely inflicted before it healed, and more pain to stoke his anger still higher.

Blake spared Okku a glance as the god of bears roared again and even more vehemently, and then returned to his own work. He trusted Neeshka to keep Okku busy and Gann had earned some measure of trust. Blake dabbed his sword left in an obvious move the spirit-warrior ahead of him easily saw and countered, and then Blake whipped his blade back to the right and up, pivoting at the waist to put power into the backhand blow. The magic enhanced edge of Blake's sword sheered though spirit-leather-armour and spirit-flesh and his foe had just long enough for an look of reproachful surprise at being fooled before he swirled away.

This was working quite well Blake felt but a frown creased his brow beneath his helmet as he noticed some movement in the spirit army. A few of the ghostly people were moving back. With the carnage inflicted on their fellows it would be easy to think this cowardice but they seemed too organised. Blake met the spring of a spirit-animal with his kite-shaped shield, deflecting the force of the spring to one side and stabbing down as the spirit-animal tried to roll to its feet, and then glanced back at the group. As he feared they were getting into a rather ragged formation, the Greycloaks or even the West Harbour Militia would have called it sloppy but it would let them be co-ordinated enough to perhaps break through to Okku.

Unfortunately for the spirits being close enough together to form a shield wall and sweep Kaelyn aside also meant they were close enough together to be vulnerable to magic. Blake let them start to move and then concentrated and chanted, a great ball of sonic energy formed between his hands and then arced up like a catapult stone and down into the small group. The _Cacophonic Burst_ discharged and despite their immaterial form the spirits shuddered with the effects. Half the group shook apart and lost their forms and swirled away. Blake could not take advantage of this though as he grunted in pain as spirit-teeth closed on the bracer on his sword-arm.

The spirit-animal that had taken advantage of Blake being distracted by his spellcasting growled through its clenched teeth and whipped itself around, trying to dislocate Blake's elbow or work its teeth through the, to it, annoyingly sturdy metal. Blake clenched his shield-arm hand into a fist with the joint of his thumb sticking out into a point and started trying to anticipate the spirit-animal's motions. One chance was all he needed to drive the edge of the thin plate of metal protecting the outside of his thumb into that spirit-animal's eye.

That chance was not needed though as suddenly Kaelyn was there and bringing her mace around and into the spirit-animal's side. For a moment it swung on Blake's arm as its rear paws were driven up off the ground by the force of the blow, but then its jaws released and it thudded onto its side on the ground. Its rear legs twitched feebly a few times, as if its spine was broken, before Blake brought his sword down onto its head and through it into the soil.

"Thanks," Blake said, but then a fresh howl interrupted him.

Okku was almost glowing with his rage but as Neeshka drew the tip of her rapier down across his ribs that wound stayed visible and took a few seconds to even start healing closed. Gann noticed this and noticed Blake had glanced back in their direction and nodded. "He is vulnerable now," Gann called, confirming what the others had suspected.

"Go," Kaelyn ordered Blake. "Susah, the bear."

Susah immediately switched her aim to trying to hit Okku rather than trying to aim past him, her practised fingers stringing arrow after arrow as her arms and chest repeatedly flexed and drew her bow with remarkable speed. Blake hesitated a moment before charging in to join the fight while Kaelyn and Efrem held off the remains of the 'army'. He'd become accustomed to command and Kaelyn had neither the authority nor had earned enough trust to compel instant obedience in Blake. It was only a moment though as the 'suggestion' made sense.

With Susah's skill the bear-god's hide began to resemble a colourful hedgehog as now Okku was vulnerable her arrows were piercing him enough to stay in his spirit-flesh rather than fall off immediately. Some arrows were working loose as Okku healed and the healing pushed the arrows out. Other arrows were deep seated enough that Okku was healing around them, there was too much healed together spirit-flesh around the shaft for the healing around the arrowhead to be able to push the barbs back through and out.

Seeing Blake approach, seeing the man whose death he had vowed, drove Okku's rage even higher than the feel of arrows in his body and spear and rapier wounds across him. Teeth as long as Blake's hand glistened in the moonlight as Okku roared and counter-charged. Neeshka's rapier sliced out again and opened a fresh wound on Okku's thigh but the bear-god was not to be diverted this time.

Blake stabbed his sword forward, aiming to plunge it into Okku's open mouth, but at the last instant Okku turned his head and clamped his teeth down, trapping Blake's sword. For a moment Blake's arm was driven back and he found himself tipping off balance, but then the magic imbued on his sword discharged and into Okku's teeth and mouth. Pain and magic shot up through Okku's jaws which relaxed just enough to free Blake's sword to move, but as Okku had turned his head and as Blake was now off balance this cut its way out of Okku's cheek rather than stabbing straight on.

Okku roared and shook his head, as if he was trying to shake away the pain as he would water from a swim and hampering his own healing as the skin either side of the wound flapped apart rather than being close enough to knit back together. Blake staggered off to one side and back, fresh arrows from Susah piercing Okku's hide as Gann darted in to open another stab wound in Okku's flank with his spear. Okku ignored those fresh wounds to fix his yellow eyes on Blake as Blake regained his balance. A glow surrounded Okku and the spirits still fighting Kaelyn and Efrem faded as they released their power to their god. Arrows pattered down onto the grass as even the deeply embedded ones were expelled from his body and all Okku's wounds healed. Now lacking other foes Efrem and Kaelyn hurried back to help surround the rejuvenated bear-god as he circled and snarled at the pitiful two-legged creatures that had dared wound him.

Neeshka bounded forward, rapier striking out with snakelike speed, but Okku turned and swung a mighty paw at her. She twisted and avoided the blow though this forced her to abandon her own attack. Blake took advantage of Okku's distraction to chant a quick incantation, falling silent a moment before Okku whirled to face him. He seemed to Okku to have abandoned that spell as no magic had struck the bear-god and Blake was now backing away from Okku's charge silently rather than continuing to chant or gesture.

Then flame erupted from the grass as Okku's paw came down on the slightly glowing spot hidden amongst it. Blake had fallen silent because he had completed the incantation to create a _Delayed Action Fireball_. Almost every time he used this spell he would simply cast this straight at the enemy so it would detonate immediately but this time he had taken advantage of the ability to cast it at the ground to detonate when stepped on. Okku shook his massive head, barely hurt as spirit-flesh did not burn like normal flesh but like the spirits of his army the fireball did cause him to instinctively recoil in surprise.

Blake swung his sword, putting waist and shoulder and some weight into the blow. The edge of the blade thunked into Okku's brow and cheek, but his spirit-body was sufficiently resistant and his eye sufficiently deep-set beneath his brow that this edge did not sink in far enough to cut the eye itself open. Okku wrenched his head away one way as Blake pulled his sword back and as their combined efforts freed the sword the deep wound above and below the angry yellow eye of the bear-god began to shimmer and slowly close. Backing away Blake cursed slightly to himself that ghostly bears did not bleed. Even with not reaching the eye itself he'd have at least hampered its sight with the blood that would have been flowing down into it.

Okku prowled forward a couple of steps to follow Blake but then his back arched as fresh pain shot across it. Efrem had seen a chance and had sprung forward, propelled by thighs and wings, and brought his Greatsword in a right to left downward diagonal blow, its blade slicing into the hump Okku had across his shoulders. For a moment Efrem's sword resisted being withdrawn as it had sliced deep into Okku's tough spirit-flesh, and so Efrem was that moment slow in his retreat. Okku pivoted, turning in his own body length and claws the size of large daggers sliced across Efrem's armour.

Efrem staggered back and down onto one knee, the gouges in his armour almost deep enough to also be gouges in him, but his siblings were alert to the danger. Susah began loosing arrows even faster, at a rate even she could not keep up for long, and Okku flinched from this assault just long enough for Kaelyn to step forward. Her face was still remarkably serene showing neither battle-lust nor exertion nor the rage that burned back at her from Okku as he advanced to try to spring on Efrem before he could rise. A flicker of her eyes to assess Okku's posture and Kaelyn calmly smashed her mace into the side of the bear-god's nose, aiming for the same side as where the wound Blake had inflicted was still healing.

Okku howled and reared back, one front paw coming up slightly towards his nose. Efrem's boots scrabbled as he regained his feet and as Kaelyn moved back, her eyes meeting and holding Okku's. There was a thud as the bear-god's front paws came back down to ground and then another thud as Gann's spear drove into him and up under what would have been his ribcage. Rather than quickly thrusting and withdrawing Gann had charged, using all the momentum he could build and the power of his arms and legs and back to strike this blow. Shifting his grip Gann twisted at the shaft, trying to twist the spearhead within Okku.

A roar of agony escaped Okku as he writhed and ripped the spear shaft from Gann's grasp. Gann staggered a little and then oofed out a little breath as the shaft came back and struck him across the chest. Slightly desperately Gann grabbed at the shaft and managed to get back hold of it, this would let his weight and the drag of his boots on the ground move the spear around in the wound as Okku moved. It would also have the advantage for Gann that as long as he holding onto the spear he was not in a place where Okku could claw or bite him, a similar situation to the tale of a Halfling that had tried riding a tiger.

Okku turned, slightly slowed as his turn took Gann with it. The weight of the Hagspawn was insignificant compared with his strength. The pain was more significant but he reminded himself he was a god of bears, pain was not as important as rage and determination. The half-celestials ahead of him were on their feet, the male and the female both, and were advancing. The Tiefling was to one side and the man he needed to slay before he could rest and brood on revenge was to the other. Okku knew another attack was coming, aside from the continued annoyance of those arrows from the third half-celestial, and he gathered his strength to meet it.

Blake looked past Okku and a wordless message passed between him and Neeshka as their eyes met. Simultaneously they moved, Neeshka slowing herself to match her harbour-boy's speed so if Okku didn't move they'd reach him at the same time. Of course it was not likely Okku would stay still and so it proved; he whirled with a speed that almost cost Gann his grip on his spear again. Gann's boots drew muddy scrapes across the grass and then he nearly fell flat on his face as Okku sprang towards Blake and the force of this spring pulled the spear back out of the wound as it pulled Gann forward. Blake's boot heel dug into the ground as he arrested his charge and, ignoring the twinge in his knee putting that much strain on it had caused, started to run back at an angle in the opposite direction.

Okku turned to chase Blake, his prey was still trying to get to a full run while Okku was already closer to this and felt confident he could move faster than a heavily armoured man even if Blake did get into his stride. Unfortunately for Okku although he was right in this he would have been wrong if he had thought he could move faster than a more lightly armoured half-celestial. Efrem lunged forward from behind and to the side of Okku, again taking advantage of the extra impetus his wings could grant, and his Greatsword stabbed into the rear and outside of Okku's thigh.

The bear-god's leg buckled slightly as his spirit-flesh parted and then buckled completely as Kaelyn got within range and swung her mace into the knee of that leg. Okku overbalanced and crashed to the ground on his side, almost rolling onto his back with his own momentum before he got his feet back under him. He started to rise onto his three working legs, dirt that had been forced into the wound by the fall dribbling back out of it as his spirit-flesh started to heal together. Neeshka however had caught up. She was nearly as fast as the half-celestials but Okku had been running almost straight away from her so it had taken that moment longer. As Okku began rising she stabbed her rapier to slice across where the tendons on the back of his other rear leg would have been.

Hamstrung Okku felt his other rear leg collapse and him thud back down onto his belly. His spirit-flesh was still shimmering, reforming, and healing but for now neither of his rear legs were working properly. Ahead of him his prey had reversed direction again, though less abruptly, and there would be little he could do to stop that attack or the attacks of those that had been following him. It tasted as bitter as water of a polluted lake but Okku knew the flavour of defeat.

"Enough… I yield…" Okku growled, raising his head slightly to meet Blake's gaze.

Blake hesitated; he could see Okku was still healing so this could be a ploy to gain time for Okku to recover enough to continue to fight. But that sort of trick seemed beneath a god of bears, it would not be noble, was the sort of thing only someone with a streak of peasant-practicality, like Blake had, would do.

"Hurry, little one," chided Okku as he saw Blake stop rather than strike. "Take your blade. Tear out my throat."

"You were _never_ my enemy," Blake replied with a frown, still keeping his sword ready and noting the others were also still alert. "I spared Lorne in my trial by combat as his defeat, not his death, showed Tyr's judgement. I would also make peace with you, learn what your reasons are, _not_ end your life needlessly…"

"No, you must finish me!" protested Okku. "Do it fast before…."

"Aaaah!" Blake screamed, interrupting Okku and bending double in agony, almost stabbing himself with his own sword as his arms came in to hug his own stomach.

"Harbour-boy!" cried Neeshka, starting to hurry towards Blake, careless of the wounded bear-god in the way.

Blake grunted before he could speak again. "Hells! This again," he said, forcing the words out.

"What is that?" asked Gann, his eyes widening. "It felt like… a backlash, a whip across my mind."

"Stop this attack!" Kaelyn commanded uselessly. "Whatever you are doing, you're feeding on his spirit, siphoning it!"

Blake straightened up and continued so his spine arched backwards. He jerked around like a marionette on the strings of an inexperienced puppeteer and behind him a shadowy tentacled form began to become visible though it was barely darker than the night around him. Neeshka halted, her eyes going huge as she saw this, but then she frowned in determination and continued on.

"The presence inside you…" Okku said weakly as a beam of something linked him to Blake, his wounds no longer shimmering with healing as that energy was drawn away elsewhere, "it wakes…"

"What… is… this?" asked Blake between clenched teeth, forcing his body to remain still though his muscles were fighting against each other.

"Emptiness… hunger," Okku replied, his brilliant colours dimming. "Forgive me… I tried to stop you…"

"I… I…" groaned Blake, and then he felt a slender hand cup the cheek-guard of his helmet, and fingertips brush in a light caress across his lips and the moustache and beard surrounding them. He tilted his head and his eyes met Neeshka's worried gaze, she gave him an encouraging smile and Blake growled deep in his throat as he felt fresh strength from her love. "I… will… not! I… said peace… not kill! This… _this_… will… _stop_!"

With each word the beam between Okku and Blake jittered and faded and as Blake asserted his will it vanished, as did the shadowy form behind him. Blake staggered in reaction and would have fallen if Neeshka had not been there to support him. For a moment there was only the sound of the deep ragged breaths Blake was taking while he leaned on Neeshka and then, as expected, Gann was the first to break the silence.

"Did… did you just rein in an attack?" Gann asked, his curiosity overpowering. "I felt your hunger, felt it ripple through the spirits, then felt it become chained, caged."

"You spared me, little one," rumbled Okku, his voice already strengthening and his wounds starting to heal again. "Once before a spirit-eater spared my life, I remember a lake of groaning ice, a man standing over me, in triumph… and a hunger withheld, in mercy."

Blake straightened up, anger on his face and in his voice as he snarled. "What in the _Hells _just happened to me?"

Neeshka blinked, the last time and perhaps the only time she had seen Blake this angry had been when Black Garius had boasted of how he had tortured her. Even Bishop and Sand betraying them had not brought such a rage to her sweetheart.

"A hunger has woken inside you," Okku explained as Blake glared at him, "an empty horror that feeds on spirits and souls. I could smell it on you, back in my barrow. Nakata must have smelled it too. Your hunger, if left unchecked, could consume every spirit of Rashemen. Do you wonder why we felt we had no choice but to kill you?"

Blake looked at Okku a moment, this did sound a good reason for Okku and the other spirits to want him dead but a good reason was not the same as no choice. Then an implication floated to the surface of Blake's thoughts and fresh anger flared within him. "Those _bastard _Red Wizards," he hissed.

"Harbour-boy?" Neeshka asked, looking worried again and a little puzzled.

"I don't know much about Rashemen," admitted Blake, glancing at her and then the others, his eyes still a little wild, "but I have heard a tale or two of how this land's spirits have defended it. If something can be released that will weaken those spirits would that not be good news for the Thayans?"

"You think they cursed you to make you into a weapon?" Gann asked, a tinge of horror in his voice at the idea of driving the spirits of the land towards extinction.

"I think they tried," growled Blake, barely glancing at his sword to check if it was clean before he slammed it back into its scabbard.

"Hopefully the one that took you survived that other Red Wizard's attack," Neeshka said, twitching her rapier around a little as her tail also twitched. "I really want to… express my gratitude for what she's done to you."

"Mph," mused Okku. "I swore an oath, little one. To serve the spirit-eater who spared my life long ago and help him end his curse. A simple oath, but I must have failed. Your curse is the proof of my shame. So now I swear the same to you."

"First," Blake replied hesitantly, "tell me everything you know about this… _curse_."

"Memories fail me, little friend, I was alive in those days," admitted Okku. "It is like asking the river to remember the snow that gave it birth. I remember the oath, and the scent of your hunger… these were strong in my mind when I laid down in my barrow to die. And I know… I paid a price for helping the man who spared my life. For letting him share my grave. But I do not remember what it was."

"But what is this hunger?" Blake pressed.

"That… I do not know. It is not a matter of remembering, I do not think I ever knew. But I know it will kill you, little friend. It will devour you from within, as it did the other spirit-eater, the one who spared my life."

"Hmm. A fate I would sooner avoid," Blake said with considerable understatement, "and your oath to end this curse should not go incomplete. I accept your offer Okku and welcome your friendship for as long as you give it."

Neeshka looked very dubious and leaned in close to where Blake's ear was beneath his helmet. "I hope you know what you are doing," she said quietly.

"Good, we will end this curse, flesh and spirit together," Okku said confidently. "Until my vow is kept, these beasts will have no king… no one worthy of the name. Let them go back to my barrow and dream."

"Old king bear deigns to travel with us?" commented Gann. "Oh, we are honoured indeed! I am already here, but one more legend will make pleasant company."

"Do not make me regret sparing you during our battle, Hagspawn," Okku said, looking almost as unimpressed with Gann's comment as Neeshka did.

"Now, now, old king bear, let us show respect for our strongly cursed and bearded ally and not fight again," replied Gann with humour. "You have named him as spirit-eater which bodes ill events to come for spirit-eaters must feed or they die."

Blake glanced at the pair and briefly considered who was the more valuable ally, the shaman of the spirits or the god of them. Perhaps the latter and now Gann had aided him against Okku that had repaid any debt for being released from the prison. If Gann wished to leave he was free to do so and that reminded Blake of another obligation that had now been discharged so with a slightly unsteady stride he began to approach the trio of half-celestials. Neeshka saw what he was doing and used the excuse of drawing her cloak back out of that magic bag and putting it back on as a reason to hold back rather than join him.

"My thanks for your aid," Blake said simply.

"And our thanks for returning our sister to us," replied Efrem, one hand scratching at the grooves in his armour. "We have done as we promised and helped you overcome the spirit army."

"And I did as I agreed," Kaelyn added, conveying annoyance despite her serene expression and tone of voice, "and returned to Mulsantir so you could return me to them and _hold_ them to their promise."

"Come," said Susah to both her siblings, interrupting before Blake and Kaelyn or Efrem and Kaelyn could argue, "let us speak with each other before we return to Celestia and Kaelyn returns to her questing."

"May Tymorra smile on you with good fortune and the Red Knight favour your plans," Blake said politely.

"My thanks," replied Kaelyn with even colder politeness. "May Ilmater comfort your suffering."

With that the three half-celestials left, moving back along the road towards the city. Blake watched them for a while as they approached the city and the pools of light around the few torches the Rashemi had placed and lit. There was another creaking as they got close enough and the city gates opened. Looking back at Neeshka she flashed him a relived smile from the moonlight shadows of her hood at the half-celestials departure. Blake returned the smile but hoped that the moonlight had not been strong enough for someone to see his beloved's perky horns or the lithe tail that adorned her rear. Or any of the details of the aftermath of the fight. Gann and Okku seemed to have fallen into a mutual silence so Blake moved back to join them.

"Ah," Gann greeted, seeing Blake's approach, "and was our Dove satisfied?"

"Not completely happy," replied Blake, after a moment to remember that was Kaelyn's title, "but debts had been settled, and the same would be true…"

"Wait," Gann interrupted, "I know what you are going to say, I think, and I accept our agreement was my aid here for my freedom from the Witches' prison. Unlike our winged former companions though I have reason to offer my continued aid." He paused and then decided to share his reason. "When my parents abandoned me it was the spirits of the land that nurtured and raised me. That debt has not and cannot be settled so, though I shall not offer you my oath, I do feel the need to help end this curse and safeguard them. Or at the least know where you are travelling and know what you are doing with it."

Blake nodded, accepting Gann's caveats and that he had reason to feel a duty to remain at Blake's side. The situation did seem more complex now Blake knew he had been fatally cursed and so tolerating Gann for his aid and knowledge made even more sense. That tolerance did depend though on whether Gann minded his manners towards Neeshka and whether he chose to intrude on anyone's mind in their travels.

"Your help has been appreciated," Blake finally said, "and I thank you for continuing to offer it."

"Now what?" asked Neeshka after a moment, looking to each of the other three for ideas.

"We should talk to the Witches," Blake replied, reluctance in his voice at the idea. "They may, now, let us speak with Magda and see what she knows of the plot that led us here and placed me in Okku's barrow."

"I too am interested in what placed you there," rumbled Okku, "and my questions are not to be denied."

"It may also serve us to speak with Nak'kai, the shaman of the Berserker lodge," Gann added, inclining his head at the truth of Okku's statement. "He does not have my connection with the land but he has some wisdom that may be of use."

"Any wisdom may be of use," commented Blake, "so let us return into Mulsantir then now they have been kind enough to open the gates, and before they decide their problems would be lessened by closing them again."


	6. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The guards at the gate and the people of Mulsantir who were still awake despite the lateness of the hour gazed at Okku with a mix of fear and worship as he entered the town and the torchlight picked highlights off his colourful form. He was a spirit of their land and he was a god of the spirits of their land, but he was also a huge and terrifying bear with a reputation for being ill of temper. Okku glanced around him at the people and at the bustle of town life parting to clear their path.

"Hmm," Okku muttered deep in his chest. "The city smells even worse on this side of the walls."

Blake glanced at Okku, considering asking if it was the fear or the sewage he smelt, but remained silent as they climbed the hill and passed through the inner gates on it. The two Berserkers duelling outside their lodge in a patch of lantern light paused a moment to look at them as they passed. Their friends had noticed the foreigner and his companion and boasted a little of how the pair had circled away from them. They hadn't noticed, or hadn't mentioned, that the companion was someone that not even a heavy hooded cloak could hide was both female and moving with attractive grace.

By itself that would have been reason to take a breather and more of a look but that this foreigner had been the one for whose blood the bear-god had been howling demanded that they judge his worth as a warrior. It was not impressive as he had coward-helmet and coward-shield to hide behind and those were both lacking in more than a very few scars of valiant-combat. There was some danger in his walk that showed he had some little training but it was a great surprise that Okku walked at his side rather than having carried his broken body away in victory. Infamous Gann-of-Dreams was also walking with them, which was remarkable as he normally walked alone.

The Witches also saw their approach and frowned as the four of them entered their sacred grove with its three statues. What could be seen in the lantern-light of the face of the bitter voiced witch below her mask seemed even more hostile now than it had before Blake had made peace with Okku. The oldest witch regarded the group calmly while the youngest held back a little way in fear or respect of Okku. That they appeared less welcoming rather than the reverse made Blake wonder if their 'watching' had been close enough they had seen his curse awaken in the darkness outside the gates.

"Abomination!" accused the bitter witch, spitting the word at Blake like some dragons spat acid and confirming his suspicion. "I warned you, Sheva. I smelled the wrongness upon him at the theatre."

"She can smell _anything_ over that cheap perfume?" Neeshka commented to Blake very quietly, forcing him to bite down a laugh.

"Tell me the truth, foreigner," the eldest witch, Sheva, asked calmly. "Did you know what you were when you came to our city."

"No, and I still do not. Nothing but the title and that Okku and Gann have said that title is a literal description of what those such cursed do."

"You are a spirit eater, an abomination," said the other witch unhelpfully, "an affront to the spirits and the gods. You are a monster out of ancient tales."

"Yes," Blake said flatly. "That much I have already gathered from being called 'spirit-eater' and 'abomination' and the simple logic that eating spirits would make me an affront to them. Do you have anything useful to offer?"

"Only my willingness to kill you."

Blake raised an eyebrow, realising he was still wearing his helmet. "I said something _useful_. Not something that would leave details of Thayan plots unknown and, since it seems to have survived the deaths of previous spirit-eaters, this curse undestroyed."

"I swore an oath to another with this affliction," Okku rumbled, "one who also spared me his hunger and sought my help in ending the curse of the spirit-eater."

"And what more do you remember, god of bears?" demanded the bitter voice of that witch as she turned her scorn towards him. "His face? His name? Your memories have fled like birds before a storm."

"Do _not_ insult my ally, Witch," Blake warned. "You might choose to treat foreigners with derision but Okku is a god of your land, a spirit you claim to serve, and I find his honest attempts to kill me preferable to the insults you fling from the safety of your rank and position."

"I remember the prayers of the dockside girl, before she donned her mask," replied Okku, calm despite his reputation and the witch's disrespect. "I remember how she begged the spirits to make her pretty, so that the sailors might whistle at her… might even pay her for her company…"

"Lies!" the witch almost shrieked. "Sheva, these are lies!"

"Yeah," Neeshka agreed, not very quietly, "she'd have had to pay the sailors… a lot."

The witch glared at Neeshka who gave her a predatory smile, promising death if the woman that had threatened her harbour-boy made the wrong move. The witch turned away, rather than meet those eyes, and to her superior. "The monster has tainted Lord Okku's memory…"

"Enough Kazimika," Sheva said, cutting off the protests. "Lord Okku, we meant no offence, and it is not our place to question the mind of a god."

"How did I become a spirit-eater?" asked Blake, hoping to gain some insight from the older, calmer, and apparently wiser witch. "It seems likely it was something that happened in the barrow, but how?"

"Perhaps you can answer that question best, monster," Kazimika retorted before Sheva could give a more measured reply. "Did you anger our gods? Defile our land? Few punishments are truly undeserved…"

"_Hush_, Kazimika," commanded Sheva, her calm with her subordinate beginning to wear thin, before replying to Blake. "Some say that the curse passed from one spirit-eater to the next… but no spirit-eater has been seen in over a hundred years. Beyond that we know little. Those who kept such secrets are many years dead."

"Passed one to next… the skeleton…" Blake said with dawning recognition, thanking Oghma for the inspiration and turning to Okku as he spoke. "Okku, you said you were sharing your grave with the previous spirit-eater and that ghost-wolf…"

"Nakata, little one," interrupted Okku with a growl. "Remember her name well as I have not forgotten what you did to her. Nor forgiven."

Blake nodded. "And Nakata said a hunger had been imprisoned in the cavern where I had been placed and where I awoke next to those bones."

"Hmm," Okku rumbled, "and so it passed to you and in your strength and in your ignorance you defied our attempts to keep you below."

"I didn't anger the gods, I didn't defile the land, I got kidnapped by Red Wizards," Blake stated to Kazimika flatly, turning back to the witches.

"So _you_ say," said Kazimika, contempt in her voice for the idea Blake could be telling the truth.

"Yes, so I do," Blake calmly replied before looking back to Sheva. "The hunger within me, can it be controlled?"

"Perhaps, if children's stories are to be believed, your hunger can be directed," said Sheva thoughtfully. "But it will grow if indulged, and it will finally overwhelm you."

"And _if_ you resist it, the hunger will destroy you anyway," Kazimika added, sounding very doubtful Blake would even try. "You _will_ starve, and your own hunger will turn upon you, consuming you from within."

"You know," said Blake in surprise, looking again at her, "that is the first useful thing you have said amongst the insults, must have been accidental." Kazimika spluttered but Blake had already turned back to Sheva, "I don't intend to devour anyone else, willingly or not. Is there some sort of cure or advice to be found?"

"If any is to be found it would be amongst those who have fought your kind," Sheva replied. "Amongst spirits, not mortals."

"My sister speaks of the Wood Man, the living soul of the Ashenwood," sneered Kazimika, trying to rally back to her insults. "He fought _your_ kind and he brought them all _low_."

"It makes sense such a spirit would know much," said Blake to Sheva before asking, with some suspicion of a trap, "but if this Wood Man fought spirit-eaters then why would he agree to help me?"

"He may not, child," Sheva admitted, "even if you have good intentions as it seems you might."

"Still sounds worth the risk," mused Blake, glancing to the others to see if they agreed, "and if he is the living soul of the Ashenwood it sounds like he would be bound to that place." Sheva nodded and Blake continued. "So I can try to flee rather than fight if he is hostile."

"Flee to escape your rightful fate," Kazimika taunted, her tone branding Blake as coward.

"Flee to avoid killing or injuring the Wood Man," Blake calmly corrected, ignoring Kazimika's sneer at the idea he could pose any threat to that spirit. "Where is this Ashenwood?"

"The Ashenwood lies several days walk upriver, to the north," replied Sheva, adding "and the winter snows have already begun to fall there."

"So I shall need a boat if I am to travel there," Blake concluded, "as roads will be becoming impassable."

"I shall send word to our shipwright, Vaszil, that he should make one available for trade," said Sheva. "Look for him at the docks and tell him that I sent you. We have an outpost on the Ashenwood shore, led by a Witch called Dalenka. She is a hard-bitten woman, and distrustful of foreigners."

_'As opposed to what?'_ Blake wondered, glancing at Kazimika.

"Sounds like she won't be much help then," commented Neeshka. "Unless Gann can woo her…"

"Ah, you _do_ recognise my talents…" Gann said smoothly, "but there are limits even to me."

"However little trust Dalenka might give you when you speak to her," warned Sheva, "it will be more trust than if you attempt to enter the Ashenwood without her permission and her Berserkers would be more than happy to enforce that lack of trust."

"I shall speak to her then," Blake said, "and thinking of speaking, what of Magda? You said I could talk with her once I had made my peace with Okku."

"I have already released Magda and she has returned to her theatre," replied Sheva. "Though it is late they are likely still clearing up the mess you and the Red Wizards made. My sisters disagree with me in this…" Kazimika snorted. "But _I _shall trust your good intent for now. Find the Wood Man foreigner, learn the secrets of your kind, and you might escape their fate… or at least not be such a blight on the land as they were before you die."

"Ah, one more thing," Blake nodded, pulling an envelope from his pouch, "I found this letter on the leader of a group of men in the Shadow Plane."

Sheva took the letter, her lips thinning as she saw the address of a Guildmaster in Thesk and then as she read that Shelvedar had been a spy she hissed in exasperation. "So that was why he abandoned his wagon and sneaked out of Mulsantir," said Sheva, glancing at Kazimika who had assigned this to fear of the spirit army, and then fixing Blake with a stare. "A shame this letter was not brought to us sooner."

"My apologies Madam Whitefeather," Blake replied insincerely, implying he had read the letter closely enough to note Sheva's surname or had made other enquiries, "you made it _clear_ when last we spoke I should not return until after Okku and I had settled things."

They looked at each other for a few moments, Blake maintaining an expression of polite attentiveness and Sheva scowling and trying to draw an admission from him. Sheva blinked and looked away as Blake proved impervious to her scowl and willing to let the silence stretch rather than fill it with words. Without letting his expression slip and show any triumph Blake nodded and bowed slightly.

"If you will excuse us?"

"Go," Sheva replied tersely.

Blake nodded and smiled with exquisite courtesy, his tolerance for the witches eroded enough by weariness and Kazimika for him to fall prey to the temptation of showing exaggerated and therefore sarcastic politeness. He moved a short way down the hill and stowed his helmet away, swapping it for his hat after lowering his chainmail hood, and transferred his shield from being strapped to his arm to being on its carrying straps over his shoulders. Blake spared a moment to pluck at his cloak where the shield-straps had rucked the material up and then continued down the hill.

The duelling Berserkers gave them a suspicious look as it became clear they were not going to walk past this time and intended to approach the lodge. They did not move from where they were training though and barely paused in their strike and counter-strike. Gann-of-Dreams had reputation as lover rather than fighter and it seemed unlikely that Okku would intervene on the outlander's behalf so they had faith their brothers and sisters within would be able to handle any trouble the strangers might start. A spirit-badger that had been napping just outside their front door was less sanguine about the intrusion however, leapt to its stubby powerful legs, and bounced towards Blake hissing its anger.

Blake had mixed feelings. He rather liked animals so he didn't want to hurt the little fellow and especially not as he knew it was his curse that was, as Okku had put it, 'driving this spirit wild'. On the other hand having a spirit-badger hissing and snarling at you and blocking your way was annoying. It could just be that he'd not been able to do a similar thing to Kazimika but there was the temptation to kick it in the nose and solve the problem by that direct method. The spirit-badger did seem to have a far more pleasant personality than the Witch though so it did not deserve to have those feelings transferred to it.

"Allow me little-one," Okku rumbled before releasing a roar that rattled the door behind the spirit-badger on its hinges.

The spirit-badger squeaked and fled around the corner of the lodge. The two duelling Berserkers had been enjoying the discomfort of the outlander and jumped at the roar but looking at Okku they subsided. That spirit-badger was the pet of their lodge and thus had the right to hiss and snarl at any visitor it wished to, but that bear was a god of bears and unlike the outlander had the right to object to the hissing and snarling. Proper dominance had been respected so they shrugged slightly to each other and returned to their training.

Blake pushed the door open and carefully looked inside, surprised to see nobody had been startled into hostility by Okku's roar from outside. In fact the Berserkers seemed to be barely noticing that they had visitors, even with one being a bear-god and another a Hagspawn who was a legend in his own mind. There was a large knot of men around one whose air of authority marked him as likely the leader, a drinking contest taking place to one side of the rear of the lodge, and a huge but dim-witted looking Berserker sitting at a table flexing one massive arm.

Neeshka sidled up to Blake and craned her head to whisper in his ear. "Watch your step in here harbour-boy. Even if they don't figure out you're cursed Berserkers are still almost as keen to brawl as Khelgar."

This good advice Blake acknowledged with a nod as he finished looking around. Two youthful Berserkers were skirting the edges of the group around the leader like nervous puppies looking for meat from the table. Blake glanced to his right and to his surprise he saw a bath with a female Berserker standing beside it. The smell of the lodge had not suggested regular bathing and that did not look very private… or very warm as it was at the opposite end of the lodge to the fire… so this was enough to draw Blake into looking at it for too long.

"By the three, I have never seen you do so well, Aleksei," commented a Berserker as another threw a dart across Blake's line of sight and into the target against the wall. "I lose again, I can't bele… Oh… hey there, outlander. Have you seen this amazing winning streak that Aleksei is on?"

Blake dragged his eyes away from the mystery of the bath and gave a slight but friendly smile. "I have only just arrived and only saw that last throw so I'd have to say no, friend. How many times in a row is it he has won?"

"Well, it would have to be five… no, six times I would say," replied the Berserker, "and even with only seeing that throw you would have never guessed, I bet outlander, that Aleksei is, was, one of the worst dart players in the lodge."

Aleksei looked slightly nervous as Blake turned his head, looked at the dart still embedded in the centre of the target, and frowned slightly. "Those enchanted darts probably aid him in hitting what he aims for. Do you play with such to get used to how they fly?"

"No," the friendly Berserker said slowly as he took a step forward and his eyes narrowed as he peered at the dart, "and I think you are correct outlander. I did not notice it before, but now I take a closer look… something is not right about those darts. You have a very sharp eye… for an outsider anyway." Blake did not have time, or much willingness, to take offence at the condescension before the Berserker whirled and glared at Alexsei. "With the aid of the outsider I have seen through your trickery. I cannot believe that you would cheat and steal from your own brethren."

"Ah, you whine like a babe Yagor!" Alexsei defended himself. "It was you who decided to place bet on what was supposed to be friendly game. You _never_ had problem in past, when _you_ were winning."

"Your lies disgrace yourself, your family, and worst of all, the lodge," accused Yagor, jaw jutting in judgement. "Come, let us go to the Ethran Katya. She will straighten this out."

"Fine by me, Yagor the whiner," Alexsei replied, unyielding in his attitude, "but once it is proved that I haven't been cheating I want every last gold piece that you owe me."

Yagor scowled at the lack of remorse. "Come to your humiliation, Aleksei," he almost growled.

"Watch your tongue Yagor," Aleksei threatened, scowling back before turning that scowl onto Blake, "and I am watching you outlander."

Blake did not look particularly intimidated or, if his memory was right and Katya was the rather fluttery young Witch, have as much faith as the Berserkers that Katya would be able to resolve the matter. The two Berserkers departed, still scowling at each other, as Blake watched them go. There was still the mystery of the bath, but that went out of his head again as Neeshka grabbed a handful of beard and pulled his head down rather than go slightly on tiptoes to speak in his ear.

"Harbour-boy!" Neeshka hissed, irritated at Blake not having taken her warning.

"Sorry," said Blake, his voice slightly distorted by how his cheek was pulled out of shape, "he was being friendly."

"Well," Neeshka replied, relenting and releasing her grip, "you didn't have to be _so_ helpful."

"There," pointed Gann, trying to distract the pair from arguing further, "at the back of the lodge. That is Nak'kai with who we should speak, without further diversions."

"Hmh," Okku rumbled. "And there beside him is the head of a _bear_ mounted upon their wall…"

Blake looked and frowned as he saw how crowded the lodge was and how difficult it would be for Okku to get through. It was going to be hard enough for him or Gann to get past all those Berserkers without spilling the ale they were swilling from the tankards in their hands, and spilling someone's pint was a traditional excuse for starting a brawl with them. Neeshka of course would be able to wriggle through, and most of the Berserkers would enjoy that process, but there was the problem of if they got a look under her hood as she passed and had some quarrel with Tieflings.

"Okku, Neeshka," Blake suggested quietly, "please stay here. Rather crowded for you Okku and we don't want a Berserker grabbing at Neeshka as she passes and therefore needing to be gutted."

"They would get out the way for _me_, little one," growled Okku, "and enough out of the way your mate would be safe from such attentions."

"As strange as it seems I agree with old father bear," Gann added, "they respect the spirits and so would part at his approach."

"Perhaps," conceded Blake, "but as strange as it seems we appear to be being ignored despite, as you would put it, being two legends and two outlanders…"

"_Three_ legends," Neeshka corrected, winking at Blake, "at least once the bards get to work puffing up your deeds."

"_Two_ legends and two outlanders," Blake said firmly, "and I would prefer to talk to this Nak'kai and depart without them paying attention to us."

"Very well little one," rumbled Okku, "I shall remain here and guard your mate from being sniffed around while you and the Hagspawn speak to this man."

"I don't need guarding, I can protect myself," Neeshka argued, frowning prettily.

"Yes my sweet, but to draw your sword you need to pull back your cloak, and you know that could draw attention."

Neeshka reluctantly nodded and Okku looked puzzled at this until, as Blake and Gann started cautiously moving towards Nak'kai, Neeshka bent slightly and whispered in one of his furry ears. A hrmph of surprise escaped the bear-god as he was informed that what was so obvious to his nose, that Neeshka had Infernal blood, could be hidden from these humans by a cloak over her horns and tail and spotted forehead and temples.

Blake attempted as much diffidence as a man in full plate armour moving through a crowd of people in furs and leathers could. His armour meant he had rather hard elbows and shoulders to use to clear his path but Neeshka's warnings and his own sureness that Berserkers liked any excuse to brawl limited their use. Eventually though they were through and into the area of clear floor between the drinking and the shaman who was ignoring this in favour of staring into the fire. Gann touched Blake on the arm lightly to gain his attention.

"Be mindful," Gann warned quietly, "Nak'kai walks the same path as I do, but he is further down it. Try not to address him as you would townsfolk, he is not of their kind."

"I will treat him with the same politeness I treat anyone," replied Blake, somewhat nettled, "until and unless they prove unworthy of good manners."

Gann nodded, acknowledging this was as much as he could hope for, and raised his voice to a normal level. "Nak'kai, how do your spirits fare?"

"Gannayev, Gann-of-Dreams," greeted Nak'kai as he turned. "My spirits are content. Do yours still stir dreams as you walk your path?"

"How can I not?" asked Gann. "It is the land I walk Nak'kai." Gann gestured, "This is Blake, he is of the 'civilised' lands, but he is not blind to our traditions."

"Then may our traditions keep you Blake," Nak'kai said politely before adding. "You show little wisdom in travelling with this one, but at least his spirits have more sense than he."

"In travelling with me?" protested Gann. "This one is cursed, Wise Nak'kai, not I. Or should your name be Blind Nak'kai?"

"Enough of your big insults, little shaman," Nak'kai replied as Blake wondered whether Gann should have taken his own warning to mind his manners. "My ears are not wide enough to fit them. What is this curse you speak of?"

"I am a spirit-eater, recently become."

"Ah," hissed Nak'kai, somewhat shocked, "it is a great evil you bring to this lodge and Gann-of-Dreams speaks unusual truth. You are indeed cursed."

_'So I have noticed,'_ Blake thought before saying, "What do you know of this curse?"

"The curse…" mused Nak'kai, shaking his head slightly as he thought and recovered from his surprise, "it is an old thing, a plague brought down by your gods onto the Rashemi people nearly a thousand years ago."

"What Gods would do such a thing?" Blake asked, his eyebrows raising slightly. "And why?"

"Unfortunately I know very little of your gods," admitted Nak'kai, "I cannot say with certainty which were involved. All I can offer is the whispers that wind and spirits have brought me over these many years."

"Any knowledge you can offer would be welcome," Blake replied encouragingly.

"The curse is said to have appeared after the rebellion of a Myrkullite priest against the gods," said Nak'kai, drawing a frown from Blake. "It was believed it was a punishment upon Mulsantir and Rashemen, in retribution against this Akachi… but those stories are largely forgotten now, and no one knows for certain if they were ever true and if this was how the curse began."

"Akachi," muttered Blake, his frown deepening in thought. "I have heard his name, seen mosaics and a book depicting his rebellion, spoken to a ghostly scribe who was involved and to a half-celestial who seeks to investigate it. Oghma seems to be granting me a lot of knowledge of this, near a thousand years ago could be about right, and Myrkul did have a reputation for his punishments."

"Kaelyn the Dove," Gann said, adding to Nak'kai, "the half-celestial, would know the exact date if any was recorded and know more of the aftermath."

"Perhaps," admitted Blake, "though she seemed as surprised as any of us, except Okku, when this curse flared up. If there is a connection, which seems likely, then it is not something she has discovered." Blake sighed. "That it has existed for almost a millennium is not heartening news, but there must be a way to end this curse."

"I do not know if it is even possible," Nak'kai warned. "All I know is that none that came before you have had the power to life the curse. Many have tried, but none have found a cure. Your affliction is proof of that."

"True enough," replied Blake, "but would you know anyone who could help? At least in telling me what has been tried so I can, perhaps, avoid travelling down a path that was unsuccessful before."

"Sadly I do not, but there may be something I could do to help. It is not much but it is all that I can offer."

"You have already been of help," Blake assured him, "but what is it you can offer?"

"There is a ritual I can perform to strengthen Okku's spirit," replied Nak'kai, "but in order to perform it I shall need three brilliant spirit essences."

Blake nodded dubiously, not quite hiding his surprise. "That… would be helpful. Would help him fulfil the oath he transferred from the previous spirit-eater to me."

"And make sure when you return to have Okku by your side," added Nak'kai, gesturing to where Okku and Neeshka were still waiting, "the ritual would after all be for his benefit."

"Farewell then," Blake said forcing a smile.

Blake returned through the crowd, his distraction clear in the lack of care he took about this compared with his approach to Nak'kai. Fortunately one Berserker was drunk enough that by the time he realised he needed to offer to hit Blake it was too late as he was already out of range and it was too much bother to chase him rather than just continue drinking. Another Berserker was less drunk but he had seen the outlander talking to Nak'kai and he knew that when you spoke to the Shaman you often found your head hurt and you were not able to think right for a while. He knew this bump was not the outlander's fault and that he had talked to Nak'kai for longer than it would take to be told to go showed he was not one to brawl with.

With just a nod Blake continued past Okku and Neeshka and outside, remaining silent until they were in a pool of lantern light away from the lodge. "This curse might be the work of Myrkul, former God of the Dead, as one of the punishments he inflicted after Akachi's rebellion."

"The thing that half-celestial is so interested in?" Neeshka asked, some of her low opinion of Kaelyn leaking through.

"The same," confirmed Blake, "though I am reluctant to speak to her again."

"Why?" Gann asked, looking slightly puzzled. "Oh, I agree that you are likely right in what you said that her surprise outside the gates meant she had not seen mention of this curse… but surely it is worth a few minutes to be sure."

"I have reasons," Blake replied flatly.

Gann looked at Blake in the dim light of the lantern and the moon, trying to read the blank expression despite the shadow the brim of the hat cast over the top of Blake's face. Then he glanced at Neeshka and nodded in understanding despite her features being even more concealed within her hood. He did not need to see her face or expression to remember what she had said about the half-celestials making her skin crawl. "Very well," Gann said smoothly. "You have reasons and those are good enough for you. We shall not bless Kaelyn with the joy of my presence again then."

"Hmm," Blake said, wondering if Kaelyn would feel as much joy as Gann would hope, before changing the subject. "The shaman, Nak'kai, also offered a ritual to strengthen Okku, but said that would require spirit essences."

"What troubles you, little one?" asked Okku as Blake's frown deepened.

"Just… the only way I know to get spirit essences would be to use my curse rather than restrain it. I was not expecting a shaman to suggest I devour three spirits for him."

"Hmm," mused Okku. "In life I drank deep of the heartsblood of my prey and in devouring their flesh I grew strong. Your restraint does you credit though."

Blake nodded as a thought occurred. "There may be a way to provide Nak'kai. On the Plane of Shadow there is a Furnace haunted by the spirits of condemned and executed criminals, and there was a resonance between that Furnace and this hunger."

"You think they might be acceptable victims?" asked Gann. "That they are not innocents and so can be consumed?"

"I think them more acceptable victims than others," Blake said, not sure whether Gann was objecting or asking, "if devour spirits I must."

"Be careful, little one," murmured Okku in caution, "your hunger would not care for innocence or guilt, only that it was being fed."

"Good advice, though even if I do not feed to satisfy either the hunger or the request by Nak'kai I think it worth re-visiting the Furnace. Now I know how I am cursed I may learn something from how this curse is reacting to the spirits there."

"As you will," conceded Okku, "but remember I travel with you to end this curse, not to watch you indulge it."

"First though Magda, and then since the portal in that theatre opens during the day I think some rest."

They continued down the hill between the patches of lantern light and past those few people still on the streets at this hour. As in most towns a lot of those people were either drunks making their way home or those that would prey on them, but neither drunks nor muggers wished to get in the way of Okku. Soon they were passing through the doors of the Veil Theatre to find it was, as Sheva had said, still active. The noise of banter between the actors and the cheery light of the interior was a welcome change from the dark unfriendliness outside. They seemed to have finished cleaning and to have moved to rehearsing as three were on the stage while Magda and the fourth of her people, who now Blake was not distracted by Red Wizards and Gnolls he noticed seemed to be an Air Genasi, were standing below.

"Pipe down you rogues!" Magda bellowed. "And give some thanks to the man who saved our lives."

"Alas," said one actor, using all his skill to infuse his tone with a deep sadness, "our thanks are all we have to give, for a cruel-hearted Dwarf hoards our meagre profits."

"Aye!" added the Air Genasi, gesturing up at his friend. "And squanders our earnings on love potions, to steal the heart of Sweet Wallace."

"Honestly, milord," Magda said, planting her hands on hips made ample by age as well as being a Dwarf, "it's like chasing a pack of dockside waifs with a broomstick. And that's when we're not trying to put on a play."

Blake smiled slightly, he found himself liking these people but reminded himself they were actors and thus skilled at creating the impression they want in an audience. "I've come about Lienna," Blake said calmly. "I think she might have been involved in my abduction and have known something about the curse I now suffer from."

"I thought it might be that," replied Magda, looking pensive, "there's not one of us that didn't love that woman, but she'd been acting strange, it's true…"

"And the blood, Magda," said the second actor, hamming it up slightly with his next words, "those ghastly droplets of red, upon her white robes."

"Mm," nodded Magda, looking unimpressed at the turn of phrase. "I'd nearly forgotten the blood…"

"Blood?" Blake frowned. "What blood?"

"No more than the day before you saved our hides, milord," said Magda, "Lienna comes bursting out from that shadow-door of hers, all covered in blood."

"Covered in blood, aye," Sweet Wallace added, "and not a drop of it hers."

"And before that, I saw the other woman hanging about," continued Magda, ignoring the interruption with the ease of long practice, "the red-robed lady, bald as a squalling babe. The both of them were up to some sort of mischief, that's all the red lady was good for if you ask me, probably behind the door of that secret room."

"Mischief... _Mischief_?" Blake said, repeating himself in anger. His eyes hardened and he took half a step forward before he felt Neeshka's hand on his arm and her touch helped him to regain some calm and continue in a more normal tone. "Mischief is what _you_ call it? I have seen Lienna's operating table, that was very likely _my_ blood she was covered in."

"Your blood? And cutting you, mayhap?" said the second actor. "Magda, what if we've been harbouring some… mad vivisectionist."

"Pfft," snorted Magda. "Lienna was no monster, Lothario, and you know it well. Sheltering the likes of us for twenty years, and never an unkind word! A bit odd at times, but never a monster."

"You _will_ excuse me if I am less convinced of that after seeing the table and remembering the knife going into my chest," Blake stated with quiet menace. "Now, what of this red robed woman? What can you tell me of her?"

Magda looked at Blake a moment and remembered how this armoured man had turned Gnolls and Red Wizards into so many corpses. She doubted he would deliberately harm her or the others but she could see the anger in his eyes and the fatigue eroding his control of this. "Only what my eyes have told me," Magda said cautiously, "her face was so like Lienna's I thought them sisters, but her head all covered in runes."

Blake nodded when Magda paused to see if he would comment.

"I saw her but twice, no make it thrice," Magda continued. "The first time was years ago, I awoke to voices in Lienna's bedroom, so I peered inside, thinking it might be robbers again. Instead, who do I see but a red-robed lady, chatting away with Lienna. I'm certain they knew I was watching… scared me silly, you understand. Red robes mean naught but trouble. But Lienna trusted her so I let the matter pass. I saw her a second time, perhaps a year ago, before the two of them disappeared for a long while."

"Disappeared?" asked Blake, before adding the question. "And the third time?"

"I don't know where they went," Magda said, "but the third time was just before the Wizards came. I saw the red lady near the portal, when Lienna came bursting out of her room, all covered in blood."

"You mentioned a secret room," said Blake, continuing when Magda nodded. "Where is it and how would I get inside?"

"You'll have to pass through the shadow-door, into the reflection of Lienna's bedroom," replied Magda. "On the east side of the room there's a door and she's always kept it locked. That's the secret room, the one she wouldn't show me, and to get inside all you need is the key and I have it right here. When the Wizards came Lienna pressed it into my hand and told me to keep it safe. I'd half a mind to swallow it and make those wizards go picking through my innards for it."

"I am glad that you didn't," Blake said simply.

"So am I milord," replied Magda, looking at the size of it. "That would not have been pleasant to pass. Here is the key, but I'll not vouch for your safety if you are bent on going inside. I've never as much as peeked beneath the door."

Blake took the key and feeling the weight of it decided 'not pleasant to pass' was a distinct understatement. "Thank you," was all he said though.

"And milord," added Magda, in an almost motherly tone, "if you care to use it for the night Lienna's room is yours. There are extra blankets in the wardrobes."

"Thank you again," Blake replied politely. "We could use rest before we continue."

They moved back through the door at the rear of the stage and towards the rear of the theatre, Okku having a little trouble getting through the door as he filled it so. Neeshka glanced at Blake a few times before speaking. "Er, harbour-boy," Neeshka finally said, "you do remember there is a portal in that room? Which is why we came here?"

"True, but that portal leads to inside the shadow version of this theatre rather than outside, like the portal in that inn room. Besides there is one other difference which makes sleeping here safer than it would have been before in that other room."

"Which is?" asked a dubious Neeshka.

"Do bear-gods need sleep?" Blake said, answering Neeshka's question with a question to Okku.

"Not like mortals," rumbled Okku, "my sleep would be to release my form and return to my cosy barrow for which I long. And this I cannot do while my oath is unfulfilled so I would remain awake."

Neeshka slowly nodded, having a watch-bear would make a difference. She was not sure if she trusted Okku enough to sleep in the same room as him and whether his oath was as reliable as Blake seemed to think. Fortunately she had experience of sleeping in thieves dens, where inattention could get your throat or the strings of your coin-purse cut, so she was confident that if Okku tried anything he would find himself with a rapier in the eye.

"So," Gann commented as they entered Lienna's bedroom, which was one end of the large room that filled the rear of the theatre rather than a separate room. He cast a glance at the bed, "this would be quite a squeeze, and normally when I have been three in a bed it has not been with another man… or not for sleeping at least"

"Neeshka gets the bed," said Blake flatly, "we get the floor."

"But…" Neeshka protested.

"Ah, I think our leader is worried about fire," smiled Gann, gaining a slight frown of puzzlement from Neeshka, "the sort of fire that might happen if you rub… two sticks… together."

"More like a fire-drill," Neeshka grinned in return, "one stick, one hole… at a time, and vigorous use of one in the other."

"Miss!" Gann said, infusing his voice with fake shock as Blake's jaw dropped.

Neeshka looked at her harbour-boy and decided to not say how a fire-drill worked better if there was a good fit and the right amount of friction. The blush that had seeped across Blake's face looked hot enough to ignite kindling already. Winking at Blake she busied herself with gathering armfuls of blankets and passing them out. Once the floor between the bed and the portal had been a little padded they began to undress. There would have been more room had they been on the other side of the bed and had let Okku have the portal side to himself but Blake wanted to be between the portal and Neeshka. He also wanted to be between Gann and Neeshka, which gave the Hagspawn the pleasure of sleeping next to the god-of-bears.

Blake started stripping off his armour with efficiency and the lack of embarrassment that sharing a campsite with people on so many occasions had given him over this. He paused as he saw Gann hesitate and steal a glance at Neeshka as she started to also undress. Gann realised he had been seen and with a wry smile of amusement at himself went back to removing his leathers, he was not as used to undressing while a lady undressed without that being for purposes of mutual pleasure. Soon the three of them were down to what they felt comfortable sleeping in and Neeshka was snuggled down under the covers on the bed. Okku settled himself between the bedding and the portal like a furry wall and Gann, with one last look of longing at the comfort of the bed, which he was fortunate Blake did not misinterpret as one of longing for the contents of the bed, reluctantly settled next to Okku.

Blake considered a moment and then spoke. "My apologies for the delay god-of-bears, I know you are tireless…"

"Sleepless, not tireless, little-one," Okku corrected. "Though you drew back that attack it did drain my strength, as did the fight. I shall not sleep but some time to rest and allow the land to replenish me is welcome."

Blake nodded and lay down, trying to drive from his mind that one side of him was the woman he loved and the other side was a bear-god that had tried to kill him. And in neither case was there much of a barrier either, it would be as easy for Blake to draw back the covers on that bed as it would be for Okku to draw back a paw and reach across Gann to strike. Paranoia and desire warred each other into exhaustion and Blake finally slept.

Morning came and brought with it pain. Blake groaned as he sat up, it felt like he had been in a drinking contest with Khelgar's entire Dwarven clan. No, it felt like fifteen sick Orcs had been sneezing on him every day until he caught what they were suffering from. No, Blake decided, it felt like he had been afflicted with a millennia old god-spawned curse so he supposed he should be grateful he felt no worse.

Neeshka sat up in the bed, the covers falling back from her upper body in a way Blake would normally find enticing. He smiled to try to dispel the look of concern in her eyes but it was a rather weak effort. She looked if anything more concerned after the smile as she leaned towards him, even the way this made her breasts sway under the thin undershirt she had, at some point, stripped down to not lifting Blake's spirits as much as normal.

"Harbour-boy?"

"Seems…" said Blake with a slight cough, "seems as well as us needing some breakfast that this curse is telling me it also wants breakfast."

"Hrmm," Okku murmured from the other side of the still sleeping Gann, who grumbled and dug himself further under his blankets.

Blake turned to look at Okku and Neeshka took the chance to dig under the bedding and retrieve her breast-strap. More comfortable to sleep without that constraint, but far more comfortable to keep things from jiggling too much and rubbing against the inside of your armour while fighting. They'd bought clean underwear but this one could last a day or two longer or until they found a bathhouse and wanted to put clean on clean.

"I do not make light of the curse, god-of-bears," said Blake, as Neeshka swiftly strapped herself up and put her thicker shirt on over the undershirt. "It is hungry though, and for that I am grateful as there was the fear it would try to feed on you while I slept."

"It seemed as asleep as you were," Okku rumbled back, his voice causing Gann to make another wordless protest as he fought against waking up. "Or as the Hagspawn still tries to be."

Blake glanced back and saw Neeshka was decent. This was disappointing for him but also meant there was no need to leave Gann asleep. Blake stood and pulled the blankets off Gann and began folding them to put to one side. For a moment Gann looked almost innocent, sleep having robbed him of his normal caustic attitude, but then as awareness came of the fact he was no longer nicely warm his body language shifted.

"Not the most unpleasant awakening," said Gann, turning and sitting up in one smooth motion and nodding to Neeshka, "especially with such company to wake up to. Of course I am comparing it with those mornings I have been confronted by angry fathers or brothers or indeed mothers."

"Not sisters?" Neeshka asked tartly.

"Sisters are more often jealous rather than angry," winked Gann.

"Of course," Blake agreed politely, putting the blankets to one side and muttering his morning invocations of those spells he had learned to make persist. Gann watched this and then frowned as Blake reached for his chainmail.

"You are simply getting dressed? Not washing first? Or changing?" asked Gann, a look like a neatly washing cat would give a muddy but happy dog coming to his face.

"There is likely fighting ahead," Blake replied, "what sweat we wash off now will soon be replaced, what clean clothes we don will soon be sweaty."

"Even so…" protested Gann.

"Gann," Blake interrupted, "directly after this we have a lake voyage to the Ashenwood; plenty of lake water to wash our clothes and ourselves and which I can at least take the chill off with magic."

"I concede your point," smiled Gann with a nod. "Very well, let us remain slightly pungent for a little longer. Perhaps it will help to repel our foes."

Blake frowned, glad that Gann had stopped arguing and was reaching for his leathers but not sure he liked being called pungent, even slightly. With a shrug though he went back to donning his armour and, that done, digging out a few rations.

"Let me guess," Gann semi-complained, taking a strip of dried meat and wondering what it had been, "food can also wait for the voyage."

"Not quite," said Blake, "on our way through the docks we can find if the Sloop Inn has better meals than rooms."

Gann opened his mouth to suggest they found out now rather than after they visited the Plane of Shadows, but then he looked at Blake. There was a tightness around the human's eyes, a cast to the tone of his skin, and despite the chill a very slight sheen of sweat. Blake did not look well and Gann decided it was better to fight on a slightly empty stomach than have Blake having to fight nausea from a full stomach as well as whatever other foes they might encounter.

Soon the three humanoids were dressed and they had tidied enough to almost remove the evidence they had slept there. Magda had been hospitable enough Blake did not want to leave her another mess to clear up, even if sleeping did not cause as much mess as fighting Red Wizards and Gnolls. The portal flared into existence again at the closeness of the stone Magda had given Blake and with some misgivings they stepped through and Neeshka approached the door to the east. Swiftly she checked it over for traps again in case someone, like Kazimika, had placed one there since the last time she had checked.

"No traps that I see," Neeshka reported, "and we know the lock is rather tough."

"Here," said Blake, lobbing the key over.

Neeshka snagged it deftly out of the air and then gave it a sad look in her hand. "Almost seems cheating to use a key, no fun," she said with exaggerated regret, "but I suppose we are in a hurry."

Blake smiled, as much as he was able with how ill he felt. Moving about had made him feel better but he was still rather aware of the way the curse was making his belly roil and seethe. The lock of the door clicked and it swung smoothly open without anything springing out of it at them. It was still with great caution Blake moved to enter this secret room though and only when Neeshka beckoned him forward after casting an eye over the floor for traps.

"Smell that?" murmured Okku as he squeezed through the doorframe. "There is blood on the floor… the trail leads to one of the portals."

"Aye, I see it," Blake replied, "if that is mine…"

"It is," confirmed Okku.

"Then that seems to confirm these portals are those I passed through while unconscious," Blake continued "I wonder if that Golem has anything to do with them, it seems to not be doing anything else but stand there."

The hulking Clay Golem had not reacted to their entrance and continued to not react as they approached. It just stood there, an expression of mindless placidity on its broad face and its thick arms hanging limply and its legs set in a perpetual semi-crouch. Blake looked at it a moment, if it was as dead as its lack of reaction suggested it seemed likely it would have fallen over.

"Be ready in case this triggers hostility," Blake muttered to the others as he stepped closer still to the Golem. "Can you speak?"

Silence was the only answer. Blake nodded and slowly reached out a hand, if he very gently pushed the Golem's chest then he could feel if it felt like pushing an inert statue or like something that would compensate to keep its balance. As his fingers touched the Golem though he drew them back suddenly as if he had touched metal that was hot enough it was only just not glowing to reveal its heat.

"That felt odd…" said Blake with understatement.

"What is it?" Gann asked. "I felt a twitch from your hunger as your fingers brushed the clay."

"It could feel a spirit in this Golem, but a weak one that is almost gone," replied Blake, biting slightly at his lower lip in thought. "Hmmm…."

Blake braced himself and then drove his hand forward and into the gut of the Clay Golem. The dried clay fractured, dust cascading to the floor as Blake continued to shove his gauntlet deeper into the Golem until his arm was embedded to the elbow in it, like a farmer feeling if a cow was pregnant but making a hole rather than using the existing one. Blake half closed his eyes to concentrate on his sense of touch as he groped around and then he found what he sought and withdrew his arm.

"Did you just rip its heart out with your bare hand?" Neeshka asked, looking at the small black round thing her harbour-boy had pulled out.

"Sort of," admitted Blake, "but this 'heart' is almost lifeless. It might gain fresh life though if I put it in this Enchanter's Satchel with…"

Blake stuttered to a stop, one hand holding the Enchanter's Satchel he had taken from the Red Wizard and the other hand holding something Okku had fixed his yellow eyes on as soon as Blake withdrew it from his magic bag. For a moment the two of them looked at each other before Okku made a growl of resignation.

"Go ahead, little one," rumbled Okku. "Not using her essence for this will not make Nakata any less dead."

"Er-ah," Blake said, he'd been so concentrating on the feelings from the curse, hoping this was Oghma's inspiration rather than Besheba's random mischief, he had almost forgotten the source of the Spirit Essence. "Anyway, I think this curse can let me fuse these and rejuvenate the Golem's Core."

Placing both essence and core within the satchel Blake reached down inside himself to take hold of rather than beat down the curse. It writhed as his will shaped it to form the tool he wanted but once he was confident it felt right he opened a channel to let that measure of its power flow out. Like a great snake constricting its prey the curse wrapped itself around the core and the essence and squeezed, but Blake seized it before it could do more than crush those together and forced it back down.

A moment or two of making sure the barrier of his determination was again seamless with no weak spot where the channel had been and Blake reached into the Enchanter's Satchel again to withdraw the core. It had been wizened and dark but now it almost seemed to be glowing with replenished power. Blake moved back to the Golem and put his hand back into the hole he had made. An almost imperceptible slackness removed itself from the Golem's stance as Blake released the core and the Golem was again as alive as it ever was.

"Visitors," the Golem said slowly, still not moving, "still wait… at the First Door."

"Visitors?" asked Blake. "Who are they?"

"They are the couriers," the Golem replied. "They have been waiting… for some time."

"Couriers? What couriers?" Blake pressed.

"The couriers… who brought you here…" came the Golem's impassive reply, "from across the world."

"Those Gargoyles?" Neeshka asked, a light of battle entering her eyes.

"Unknown," said the Golem, showing it could hear more than Blake. "They are voices… hissing, whining… flattering. All creatures are voices… commands to be obeyed or ignored… nothing more."

"They might have answers," Blake said to the others, strapping his shield onto his arm as he spoke, "but stand ready in case they decide to fight."

"I hope they do," replied Neeshka with a bloodthirsty grin, "we owe them for the trouble they have caused us all harbour-boy."

Blake nodded in agreement, checking his sword was loose in its scabbard but not drawing it. "Golem, open the First Door."

"The seals are withdrawn," the Golem replied, "the way is open."

A slight mist formed within one archway, its glow either dim or dimmed by the effects of the Shadow Plane. Three Gargoyles stepped out of the mist and as they noticed who was waiting for them their expressions changed from over-humble servility to fear and they pressed back against the stone of the arch and into the mist. The portal seemed to only be one way though, had only let them arrive rather than retreat, and then even that chance vanished with the mist. The Gargoyles darted fearful glances around the room as with a slight hiss Blake drew his sword.

"It _is_ them!" Neeshka said with satisfaction, breaking the silence and proving that unlike most people she could tell the difference between individual Gargoyles.

"Hsst! You!" said one Gargoyle, ignoring Neeshka as it stared at Blake.

"We're trapped, my brothers," whined the second, "snared!"

"Please," the third begged, "we did as we were told… we thought you were dead…"

"You are the creatures that carried me from the Vale of Merdelain?" asked Blake, knowing the answer.

"Forgive us good master," the third replied, "we were poor slaves, shacked and bound to our white lady's will."

"We crept across the world, tracked the scent of your blade," added the first, almost grovelling, "watched you from the shadows. In your keep, through your war, and in the umbral dark of Merdelain, our eyes were never far…"

"Better not have been watching everything," Neeshka muttered.

"And then you stopped simply watching," frowned Blake, agreeing silently with Neeshka.

"Our white lady told us to wait," the third Gargoyle whined, "to bide our time until… we are sorry good master…"

"When the rocks smashed your bones we saved you from death!" said the first, trying to put conviction in its voice. "Had we not borne you away, to Lienna and her red twin… you would have ended like your comrades…"

"His minions more like," the second Gargoyle sneered, forgetting to keep its tone subservient. "They followed him blindly to their deaths like chattel, like willing slaves, I do not pity them."

"And I don't pity you," said Neeshka tartly, "especially since you lie so poorly."

"Hsst," the second Gargoyle said, finally focussing on Neeshka. "It is one that was _there_, that followed him."

"One you just called a willing slave," replied Neeshka with a threatening smile.

"Leaving that insult to her aside… for now… when you brought me here," Blake asked, before the Gargoyle could start grovelling to appease Neeshka or him, "what happened then?"

"Lienna took the silver blade from your hand and the silver shard from your chest," said the first Gargoyle, confirming the vision Blake had seen. "And she told us to bring you to the barrow, to lay you in that… chamber."

"We dared not tarry in the cavern of runes, good master," the third and most whiny Gargoyle said. "We feared what lay within, feared it even more than our white lady and her red twin together."

"And so you _should_," Okku growled. "You have unleashed a curse upon this land and undone the deeds of a god of bears."

The Gargoyles recoiled at Okku's snarl, even in the dimness of the Plane of Shadows his colours flared and his great teeth glinted and a gleam of satisfaction entered his eyes at the proper respect they were showing for his wrath. Blake let them cower for a few seconds before speaking again.

"Enough of your tales and your grovelling," Blake demanded, his voice only slightly less harsh than Okku. "And your lies and your insults. Why did Lienna bring me here, and why did she choose to leave me to be cursed in that cavern?"

"Please, don't make us betray her…" pleaded the cowardly third Gargoyle.

"Be silent, brother," the first Gargoyle ordered. "Can you not feel, now we are here, that the link is gone. That she is dead?" The other two Gargoyles murmured in confusion before the first continued, "In truth, we don't know. We were slaves and not privy to our mistresses' schemes."

"But we do know when those schemes took root, don't we brothers?" pointed out the second Gargoyle, a note of bartering tinting the subservience. "We know who planted the seeds in their minds. And we will tell you, good master, if you let us leave in peace."

"No bargains. You tell me what you know and I will decide whether that is sufficient to remove my need for vengeance."

"True, we owe him brothers, for carrying him from his land, and for leaving him in the cavern of runes…" the second Gargoyle conceded, returning to a more servile attitude. "It was the nine hags… the Slumbering Coven. Lienna visited them, together with her red twin. They heard the hag's counsel, and they returned with plans…"

"The Slumbering Coven?" asked Gann, with recognition. "That circle of hags is involved?"

"Yes, the Coven!" confirmed the third Gargoyle, trying to buy mercy with enthusiastically offered information. "They lair to the east, along the shores of Lake Mulsantir, in the depths of a city, half-submerged beneath the waters."

"A city beneath the waves. Curious," mused Gann. "I have dreamed of such a place. I should like to accompany you to this city Blake… if you will have me."

"This lank-haired shaman is a Hagspawn, yes? There are many of his kind in the sunken city," the third Gargoyle said, before adding a touch of flattery, "but few as pretty as him."

"Few?" asked Gann, mildly insulted at the idea there could be any. "I would say likely none."

"And _what_ else dwells in this city?" Blake demanded, wondering if this could be as much of a trap as the Ashenwood might be.

"We don't know, good master," whined the third Gargoyle pleadingly. "Now let us go."

"No," said the first, some determination awakening, "after a century as her slaves Lienna owes us, we want to tear her things and break her shiny masks."

"Yes!" the second almost demanded. "And give us Lienna's corpse! Let us ransom her body to her red twin, my brothers, for an end to our servitude."

"Your luck is poor, perhaps on both counts," Blake replied, before amplifying. "If the red twin is who I think she is possibly dead in a coup at her Academy and Lienna destroyed herself so her body is nothing but ash."

"Noooo," cried the second Gargoyle, "we need her corpse in case the red twin still lives! The red lady loved her dear Lienna, she'd bargain with us and set us free…"

"Stop whining, little brother. He speaks the truth," the first Gargoyle said repressively, "our white lady is a smear of ash and our chance to barter is gone."

"But there is a lie amidst the truth, brothers," said the second Gargoyle, projecting his own deviousness onto Blake. "I think this one burned her… let us have our satisfaction on his corpse instead. We have naught to lose."

"She burned herself rather than be taken by Red Wizards," Blake corrected, before smiling wolfishly and continuing, "but I am glad you decided to fight. Mercy is good for the soul, but enemies are best left dead."

"And it saves me hunting you down," added Neeshka, with a matching smile, "which I'd have done if he'd let you go."

"Only if you had moved faster than the spirits," Okku growled, flexing his mighty shoulders in preparation.

Gann remained silent. He'd not been kidnapped, not had his love kidnapped, and not had his oath spoiled so he had less reason to care whether these Gargoyles died or simply left. But being willing to not kill them was not the same as being unwilling to kill them and he shifted his spear ready to strike. The Gargoyles suddenly looked less sure of themselves as they realised their brother had done what three of the four facing them had wanted and which the fourth did not mind. For a moment it seemed they might return to grovelling, backing away from what the second Gargoyle had said, but then that moment passed as there was a blur.

Blake uncoiled, his sword striking out without warning. It took a lot of practice to be able to launch a blow without betraying your intent by a flicker of the eyes or a tensing of the muscles. The solid basic skills the West Harbour Militia had given Blake had only improved though with each battle and with practice against his Sergeants at Crossroad Keep. His sword entered the first Gargoyle's belly, was twisted in the wound as its magic discharged, and pulled back almost before anyone else realised Blake had moved.

One clawed hand grabbed at its belly as the first Gargoyle shrieked. This was not as fatal a blow to it as it might have been to a more mortal foe but it still hurt and it still wanted to keep its guts where they should be. The second Gargoyle hissed and tensed to spring but before it could Okku moved. One paw as large as the Gargoyle's head swung out and almost severed the Gargoyle's arm its shoulder was so thoroughly shredded. The Gargoyle bounced off the wall behind it, its wings absorbing some of the impact. Okku had dipped and twisted his head and as the Gargoyle staggered back towards him Okku's massive jaws closed on its midriff.

Pain and fear erupted from the Gargoyle's throat as Okku twisted his head back and the Gargoyle found its feet leave the floor and its weight supported by the teeth in its belly and back. Okku's jaws worked for a moment to get a good firm grip and then he started shaking the Gargoyle about. The Gargoyles wings beat slightly at the air as it tried to get free but all this did was provide extra resistance for Okku to push against in working his teeth through the magically resilient flesh.

The first Gargoyle turned to rake the hand not clasped to its stomach across Okku's flank as its 'brother' began to slowly come apart in the middle. As its hand came down though it met Blake's sword coming up in a backhanded blow. This was not the most precise strike Blake had made, catching the Gargoyle in the middle of the forearm rather than, as he'd intended, at wrist where it was easier to cut through. However the power of the collision and the enchanted edge of his sword proved equal to the task as Gargoyle bone splintered and Gargoyle flesh parted rather than his blade becoming stuck. The first Gargoyle barely had time to stare in shock at where its arm now ended and the rest of its forearm and its hand barely time to hit the floor before more pain coursed through it as Neeshka struck. Her rapier sank into the softer flesh between the Gargoyle's ribcage and hipbone, angled slightly upwards to drive into where most creatures kept their vitals.

Gann meanwhile was more than holding the third Gargoyle's attention. Fluid leaked down one cheek from the ruin that had been its eye as it hissed and batted at Gann's spear. Gann flicked his spear out in short motions that made it hard for the Gargoyle to judge until the last moment each time if he was aiming for the other eye or the Gargoyle's neck. Slightly desperately the Gargoyle jerked its head to one side and away, throwing off Gann's aim enough that all the edge of the spearhead did was open its cheek to the bone. It howled, some of the air bubbling through the wound, and tried again to grab at Gann or his spear but Gann was back to his patient flicking.

The first Gargoyle felt like he was in serious trouble. One hand was holding his guts in and the other hand was gone. Even so he was not as badly off as his 'brother' whose shrieks were fading with each passing second. Then there was a clack as Okku's teeth met and the second Gargoyle came apart and the two halves were flung in opposite directions by the force of the shaking. The thud of those on the walls and floor were joined by another as Okku, with an expression of disgust, spat out the foul mouthful he'd been left with.

Neeshka reacted almost instantly. Knowing Okku was now free to attack the first Gargoyle she shifted her attention to the third. Her attacks were, for her, quite clumsy and the Gargoyle quite easily managed to sidestep them. That however was all Neeshka wanted. She'd driven the Gargoyle further from its ally and diverted its attention to her and away from Gann. There was a slight thunk as Gann shifted his aim and drove his spear into the Gargoyle's leg just above its knee. The Gargoyle staggered, wings beating a little to try to help it keep its balance.

Blake thrust his sword forward and the first Gargoyle twisted to avoid the blow. It succeeded but this was acceptable to Blake since as well as avoiding his blow this twisting also brought its wing around closer to Okku. The claws of one huge paw snagged into the wing membrane as Okku dragged the Gargoyle down and to one side, forcing it onto one knee and the hand it had taken away from its gut wound. For a moment the Gargoyle's torso and neck were almost horizontal as Okku kept its wing pinned to the floor. Blake stepped forward and brought his sword down in a straight vertical arc like an executioner.

As the head of its brother bounced on the floor the last Gargoyle hissed in fear. Neeshka and Gann moved simultaneously to strike. Its thigh wound was slowing the third Gargoyle but even had it been at full speed that would have not been enough. Neeshka's rapier stabbed into its heart, was twisted as its magic discharged, and then drawn back in one smooth motion. Gann was not quite as fast but his spearhead made a broader wound as he thrust his spear into the Gargoyle's neck and jerked it back, having almost stabbed hard enough to get his spearhead trapped between the vertebrae.

The third Gargoyle fell backwards and as it thudded to the floor Neeshka and Gann moved again. Gann's spear plunged into the Gargoyle's chest, almost into the wound Neeshka had made but widening it and with enough force Gann had to brace one foot on the Gargoyle to pull it out again. Neeshka was subtler and ran the edge of her rapier across the Gargoyle's neck, slicing it to the spine just below where Gann had stabbed it to that. Gann nodded to Neeshka, taking the same lack of offence at her making sure of the wound he had inflicted as she took at him doing the same with hers.

"At least these don't leak much," Blake commented, looking at the Gargoyle fluids beginning to pool.

"They leak enough," replied Neeshka with a moue of distaste.

Blake nodded and looked at the stone arches. "This one says 'disposal'," he said, pointing at that doorway, "Golem, how does this portal serve as a disposal?"

"It leads," said the Golem slowly, "to a place of fire. All that passes through is consumed in flame."

"Well, burning these sounds good," Gann commented, frowning down at the chunks of Gargoyle scattered about. "Or cremating them if you prefer to use that term."

"Places of fire often have Fire Elementals," mused Blake, "and Red Wizards are fond of trickery."

"Let _anyone_ order the Golem to open the door," Gann said, raising his eyebrows in enquiry as to if this was what Blake was thinking, "but have your own extra little trick that makes the portal one way and so safe to throw things through?"

"Something like that," admitted Blake. "I could be being paranoid but let's just stack these into that doorway for now rather than risk Beshaba being able to amuse herself with our misfortune."

"Very well little one," Okku rumbled, bending his head, seizing the almost complete body of the first Gargoyle in his teeth, and then with one flick of his neck and shoulders flinging it neatly across the room to land in that doorway.

Blake tried to not look too impressed by that feat of strength as he grabbed the lower half of the second Gargoyle and strained slightly to semi-drag that across. Gann looked at the remains in some disgust before stabbing his spear down into the piece of Gargoyle Okku had spat out. Neeshka picked up the head of the first Gargoyle by one horn and then waited patiently while Okku flipped the third Gargoyle onto the pile made by the other one and a half corpses. Gann shook the Gargoyle chunk off his spear and Neeshka popped the head on the top while Blake strained again to get the upper half of the second Gargoyle across and onto the pile.

It was quite a stack and Blake wondered whether it was enough obstruction to block the arrival of a Fire Elemental. The problem would be that in doing that the corpses would probably catch fire and burning-corpses were one of the very few things that were worse than corpses to have in a room. Neeshka quickly searched the bookcases and chests and a few more scrolls vanished into their bags before they moved back into the portal room. As they entered the room with the operating table Okku paused, sniffed, and grumbled. Blake nodded to confirm what Okku's nose had detected and the bear-god gave a fractional motion of respect.

"Oh my," said Gann, from where he had gone out onto the stage in the next room. "Certainly seem to be filling this shadow-theatre with bodies, hmm?"

Blake joined Gann on the stage and nodded again as he looked around. As well as the charred skeleton of Lienna there was the acid-dissolved corpse of the one Red Wizard, the two slain by Neeshka's blade that looked fairly neat, and the one he had decapitated. Blake had not thought he was coming back and had been in a hurry so these lay where they had fallen. There was still a clear path down one side of the stage and across to the doors.

"This… plane… feels hostile to life," Blake commented as he led the way. "Things rot and decay to release their essences back to allow new life to come, but here it does not feel like these bodies will perform that service."

"So you just leave them?"

"They are not in the way," Blake replied, "they don't need burning or burial to prevent pestilence, and the dirt floor under them is already dirtied by absorbing their fluids so why dirty another patch of floor by moving them elsewhere?"

"Just… seems so untidy," said Gann with a small moue of disdain.

Blake nodded in agreement. "I'd feel better honouring Jergal and giving these proper burial, but the funeral customs of Thay are not something I know."

"Nor something the people of Mulsantir care about," Gann smiled slightly, "they are no more dishonoured left here than disposed of in the Rashemeni way. Weighted and off the docks like those unfortunate pirates."

Blake nodded again as he opened the doors to the outside. As they travelled through the dim streets of Shadow Mulsantir he was relieved there was nothing to block their path. Those streets seemed almost well lit compared with the gloom inside the Death God's Vault as though it was no darker the weight of centuries of death and near-abandonment was almost tangible. Blake was mildly surprised that Kaelyn was not back at her post staring at the door and hoped she would also not be staring at the Priest. It would be hard enough to control and assess this curse without the distraction of concern over the pain Kaelyn might be inflicting on Neeshka.

"A strange place little-one," Okku murmured as they moved through the rooms towards the Furnace. "Death is natural and simple, something that just happens rather than needing to be ornamented."

"Humans… and elves, and dwarves, and other of the two legged persuasion need their ornaments father-bear," said Gann. "The more macabre they can make death seem, the less simple and natural, the easier they find to not dwell on it."

"A waste," growled Okku. "Death will come whether they dwell on it or not."

Somewhat ignoring the discussion of philosophy Blake approached the Furnace where the Priest-Spirit still stood. A flicker of his eyes before he went back to staring into the distance, at a point partway to where the horizon would be if there was not a wall in the way, was all that betrayed he had seen their arrival. Blake looked at the Priest-Spirit for a few minutes, considering waving one hand in front of the spirit's eyes, before speaking.

"Priest," Blake said, reluctant to try experimenting with his curse if there was another way, "speak to me." Silence was his only answer so Blake gathered his will and muttered. "Very well then."

Reaching down into himself where the hunger roiled Blake let a tendril of it out to brush across the Furnace like an Octopus arm testing if something should be grabbed and brought back to its mouth. The curse twitched within him as he prevented it from snagging or squeezing the spirits as it tasted them through this tendril and as Blake felt this taste and felt their minds. Some of those within were innocents and some were mere petty thieves that most would consider not deserving of eternally burning. There were Murderers though, aside from the Brute, and Rapists and others also more worthy of the fate of being bound within the Furnace.

"Wait," cried the Priest-Spirit, almost breaking Blake's concentration, "what are you doing? I can feel the power you possess. What are you?"

Blake took a moment to withdraw the tendril of power back within himself before answering the Priest-Spirit, letting him wait as he had let them. "The victim of a terrible curse, a spirit eater."

"A spirit-eater?" asked the Priest-Spirit, looking blank for a moment before his eyes widened. "I have a vague recollection. When I was still living I was Myrkul's High Priest. The god always mistrusted me, because my predecessor Akachi…"

"Yes, yes," Blake said impatiently, "he led a Crusade against the City of Judgement. I'd not realised that was so close to when Myrkul was slain, but many people have mentioned Akachi to me since I arrived in this land and became cursed. I do have other questions, now you are deigning to speak to me."

"What must I answer before you will leave us in peace?" demanded the Priest-Spirit.

"First, what is this place?"

"This is the Crematorium of Myrkul's Vault," said the Priest-Spirit simply, but with dignity. "The furnace I stand before is my home, and the home of thousands of others who were cremated here."

"Why were you cremated?"

"Soon after my god Myrkul was slain by Mystra followers of Cyric assaulted this vault," the Priest-Spirit replied. "We barely were able to seal the lower levels before they burst through the entrance. Cyric's raiders slew everyone but me, I was tortured for days that they might learn how to open the gate to the lower vault and plunder Myrkul's most precious treasures."

Neeshka perked up a little at the words 'precious' and 'treasures' but then subsided. However nice that sounded she did remember her own advice about things that were precious to a cleric not necessarily being precious to anyone else and that robbing holy sites could bring more trouble than almost any amount of treasure was worth. It was simple to evade the sight of mortal guards but far harder to evade the sight of a God and even a minor deity had more followers than a major noble.

"I did not relent," continued the Priest-Spirit, "so eventually they cast me into the Furnace to suffer the same fate as the many I'd sentenced here myself. Of the memories that are left to me only the most painful remain clear, but I'd like to think it was not in vain. Were it not for my actions, and my rather painful sacrifice, Cyric's followers would have got through the gate to the lower level and completely desecrated Myrkul's vault."

"It was not in vain," Blake said a little consolingly, "even now the lower level remains sealed."

"That is… good to hear," said the Priest-Spirit, his face relaxing a fraction towards peace. "I have endured such torment, both prior to death and after. Though I may never be released from this Furnace I can endure it easier knowing my sacrifice meant something."

"I know that look harbour-boy," Neeshka accused Blake as he looked at the Priest-Spirit, "you are thinking something."

"I am thinking of Nolaloth," Blake replied, turning to look at Neeshka, "and how we released him so his soul could finish its journey to death." Turning back to the Priest-Spirit Blake continued, "Priest, this curse I endure may be able to be used to release you. To grant you rest, rather than devour you, and end your suffering."

"Truly? Eternal rest seems an impossible dream for the damned servant of a dead god," said the Priest-Spirit, more hope coming to his face as he spoke and tried to convince himself of the chance. "But if it is within your power, then I beg of you… grant me rest!"

Blake took a deep breath, his fists clenching as again he crushed the curse to his will. The hunger struggled like a boar on a boar-spear, trying to work its way off the head or past the crosspiece and up the shaft to gore and trample the hunter. Blake anticipated the flailing of his curse and drove it down, crushing the boar to the forest floor and then beating it with the iron-banded club of his anger and frustration. In this mindscape the squeals of rage were replaced by squeals of pain and the crunching impacts by dull thuds as fewer and fewer unbroken bones were left to crunch.

Little of this struggle and anger and unrelenting violence showed on Blake's face though, he looked quite calm as he finished breaking the curse into the shape he wanted. "Lost soul, be at peace."

"Thank you…" replied the Priest-Spirit, his voice trailing off as he faded.

Neeshka drew her rapier as more spirits appeared, glancing around them she frowned and complained. "You remembered Nolaloth, did you also remember the Dragons that objected to us doing that for Nolaloth?"

"These spirits don't want to fight," Blake replied calmly, tilting his head slightly as he felt their intent, "they want to be released also." Then Blake's eyes narrowed as he saw a spirit he recognised.

"Child, come now!" demanded the Brute. "The Many flocks to the flesh-receptacle who exorcised the Priest!"

"I am here, and I see," the Child replied.

"We must slay it now before it disperses the Many. Before we meet the same fate as the Priest."

Blake drew his sword. Neeshka glanced at him, this did not fit in with what he had said about the spirits not wanting to fight, and then moved closer to his side to protect his flank. Gann and Okku shifted their positions, the great spirit-muscles of the bear-god tensing in readiness and the spear of the Hagspawn being brought ready to use rather than to just lean on.

"Wait," said the Child, seeing those preparations, "I will parlay with it."

"The Child and the Orc the Priest spoke to have appeared," Blake muttered to the others, "the Orc said they should slay us but the Child wishes to speak… which could be a trick."

"Hah," snorted Neeshka, "maybe we should tell this Orc what happened to the last few tribes of Orcs that threatened you."

"What did happen?" Gann asked politely.

"They were blocking trade routes to Neverwinter through the mountains," said Neeshka, smiling sweetly towards the Furnace, though not quite managing to aim this smile directly at the Brute. "Now they aren't blocking anything, except the bellies of scavengers with how tough their meat would be."

The Brute growled but Blake spoke over him, and Neeshka, to the Child. "The spirits here cry for release and I can grant that…"

"No," replied the Child quickly, "the Priest said something terrible would become of me, should I ever be exorcised." Calculation replaced fear on the Child's face and in his voice as he continued. "But you have great power, and therefore command the respect of the Many. We can help each other. You wish passage through the gate to the lower level of this vault, and we crave to be free of this Furnace we are bound to."

"I have no desire to reach the lower portion of this place. I only returned as I'd felt a resonance between the curse and this Furnace, but if you crave to be free then what are you proposing if _not_ to be granted rest?"

"The Many is complacent and comfortable," said the Child contemptuously. "Though some wish release, others huddle within the Furnace, refusing to come out for any reason. Under the threat of destruction these Spirits will be forced to flee the Furnace. And when all have left the Many will be free and separate once more."

"The Child spirit suggests I use the curse like a stick on a wasp nest," Blake muttered over his shoulder, "to simply drive the spirits from the Furnace rather than give them rest."

"I do not think that is wise," Gann muttered back, leaning forward a little. "I can sense a multitude of spirits within and that many are malevolent."

Blake nodded to Gann. "How would this benefit me, Child?"

"You may not want to reach the Lower Vault _now_ but needs change," said the Child in a wheedling tone. "We can feel the power this curse has over us so it must he connected with death or those that have died but still 'live'… and you could learn much from the archives below. For that you would need the key the Priest hid in this Furnace long ago. However it cannot be retrieved until the Spirits of the Furnace are freed, until then the fires of this Furnace will burn eternally."

"Then… freedom they shall have," Blake said, making his decision, "by being given rest for their sake rather than any possible future need for some key."

Blake reached out with his power, letting it seethe through the Furnace like a mass of snakes writhing over each other. Some spirits flung themselves into the mouths of the snakes, desperate for release, while others succumbed to being coiled around or bitten and were also devoured. Blake could feel them being released but could also feel his hunger lessening by being close to this flow, like a thirsty man standing by a waterfall being drenched with spray. He did not have much time however to consider this or for his concern over whether his hunger was lessening too much as the Child was speaking again.

"You should not have done that," the Child sneered, almost all his false innocence dissipating as his voice and body language became more evil. "You destroyed the weaker spirits, but the stronger ones remain. And we will rebuild the Many, starting with you!"

"Attack us Child," warned Blake, "and die, again."

"Attack?" Gann asked quickly.

"The Child wishes to replace those spirits given Rest by taking ours", replied Blake, smiling evilly at the Brute.

"Hrmm," Okku rumbled as more spirits faded into view. "They _are_ ambitious, little one, but that will serve them naught."

"Hhhraaaggghhhhh!" roared the Brute, becoming visible in his rage as he threw himself at Blake.

Blake reacted, his speed greater than that of the Brute as Blake was a soldier rather than a murderer and his skills were not eroded by centuries of disuse within a Furnace. The sword's tip carved lightly across the Brute's form as Blake sidestepped and parried the Brute's attack. The Brute vanished and Blake's head twitched as he glanced around for his foe. This could be tricky if they could appear, disappear, and appear again to ambush.

"Careful," Blake warned, "the Brute has vanished, returned to invisibility."

"No," replied Gann, "he is dead, dissipated by your blow."

"What?" Blake asked in disbelief. "I barely hit him…"

Blake's voice trailed off as he saw the fear on the Child's face and that the other, more shapeless, spirits had paused in their attack. Okku roared and took advantage of this, springing into the midst of a group of them, crushing three beneath his paws and then whirling and knocking more aside. Even the relatively glancing blows of Okku's whirl seemed enough to cause some of to dissipate. Blake looked at this success in some disbelief.

"I think you became too used to Telthors in the barrow, or in the army, of a bear-god," Gann said, sweeping his spear around to slice the edge and tip of the spearhead through a few more spirits.

A _Lesser Missile Storm_ erupted from Blake's hands as he muttered the invocation. The spirits glowed slightly at the impact points and as the magic of the missiles discharged into them. Some dissipated even from this rather than merely being slightly wounded. "But these are the stronger spirits?" Blake protested, dabbing his sword out and through another foe.

"The stronger spirits of a furnace of the condemned," replied Gann, his spear flicking out rhythmically, "rather than spirits considered strong and worthy enough to live with or aid a bear-god, and to share in his and each other's might."

"You think I would share my barrow with such as these?" Okku growled, snapping at spirits like a dog snapping at flies and with the spirits providing as little resistance to his teeth.

"It appears their strength depended on the others," continued Gann, "depended on being part of 'The Many' which you broke."

"I mistrust appearances," Blake snarled, slicing at another ghost. This vanished though even against a mortal foe, and even with the magic on Blake's sword, that would have been nothing more than a nasty cut across the upper chest. "Are you sure they are being dispelled rather than just hiding?"

"Yes!" replied Gann, nettled at this doubt. "Can you not feel the energy dimming like a field of candles in a rainstorm?"

Blake tried to feel this, his hunger's attention was more taken by the blaze of strength that was Okku but it could sense the other spirits. He could sense them being extinguished with each passing second. "Child," Blake said, "you seem to have overestimated your… child?"

Neeshka stabbed another ghost where its throat would have been. She had seen little boys like that before. The sort who would happily cut your throat, or something else, as you slept so she had felt no compunction over dealing with him. Her harbour-boy was still kind hearted though, just the sort of sap who would give shelter for the night to an 'innocent child' and then find that child had opened a window for others to enter and loot his home. He'd proven that with how he had allowed Wolf and the other street children first into the Sunken Flagon and then allowed them to live at Crossroad Keep. Blake might have hesitated over what needed to be done so Neeshka was happy to have saved him that decision and even happier that he'd been distracted by Gann's words from seeing her do this.

"That appears to be the last of them," Gann judged calmly.

Blake slowly nodded and began moving towards the Furnace. "The Child Spirit said the key to the lower vault was here."

"Does it matter?" Neeshka asked. "I thought we agreed that was best left undisturbed and you said you didn't need it."

"There are mysteries here though," replied Blake as he knelt and began to sift through the ashes. He paused as he found something large and then grasping its handle he drew it out and stood and shook the ash from it, "Not least of which is why the key seems to be a replica of the Sword of Gith."

"So now what then?" Neeshka said as Blake fell silent.

Blake looked at the replica for a moment longer. "The Ashenwood would seem our best chance to learn more of the curse, the Sunken City to learn more of the plot…"

"And of my dreams…" Gann pointed out.

"And of Gann's dreams," Blake said, accepting the correction. He nodded slightly to himself, "Both require us to depart this gloomy plane though so I think, if she is still easily found, that Kaelyn should have this… key. Giving her this may ease the anger she felt over my holding her siblings to their bargain."

"Who cares?" Neeshka interrupted. "Had worse people angry at you before harbour-boy."

"She might have some information on this curse, my sweet," Blake replied, before admitting, "and besides… We owe her little, but I would suffer a twinge of conscience were we to return to this Vault and find she had also returned and had spent yet more days staring at the Gate because we had the key."

"What if we returned and found her corpse below?" enquired Gann. "If in giving her passage you had given her passage to her death?"

"Aye, there is that," Blake said slowly, "but it would be _her_ decision to use or not use the key rather than _our_ decision to have not shared it with her."

"Even my harbour-boy can't save everyone if they want to be stupid," Neeshka pointed out, her expression showing clearly how little she thought of Kaelyn and the idea of speaking to her again.

"That wasn't quite how I'd put it," said Blake slightly chidingly, "but… yes."

"And of your other purpose here?" Okku rumbled. "You do seem to have learned to channel your curse, twist it further to your will."

"Yes, and it did feel like it was doing what I wished, it felt merciful, it felt right," Blake replied, looking troubled. "But in releasing the Priest I did gain an essence, and if this much of his energy remains here in my possession then how much of him did I actually send to his rest? However it felt if the result is the same, a vanished spirit and an essence remaining, then can it really be so different?"

"It can, I think," mused Gann. "Rather than a whip across my mind it was more like a gentle stroke from a farmgirl's finger… though not as enjoyable of course."

"Nonetheless," Blake replied, a little comforted by Gann's words, "I think that, even with needing another two essences for Nak'kai, unless the victim is both hostile and evil I shall avoid using this power."

"That would be wise, little-one," rumbled Okku.

Blake looked at Okku for a moment, wondering if that was threat or advice, but then decided that whichever it was it would be wise to heed. "If the flames here still burned…" he began to say.

"You'd not have that strange key," Gann commented.

"And we'd have somewhere to cremate the Red Wizards and Gargoyles," continued Blake. "Kelemvor though might have disapproved of those that had died under his aegis being cremated in a furnace of his predecessor."

Gann waved one hand and gave a slight sneer. "You know my feelings on these supposed gods so I find it hard to think their opinion important."

"Never thought I'd wish Qara was here," Neeshka said, speaking quickly before Blake and Gann could argue.

"True, she could have easily burned those bodies with the great affinity Kossuth granted her for fire," nodded Blake, being successfully distracted and adding after a little thought, "and with it being Kossuth that blessed her those flames might have been purifying flames and been suitable."

There was a long pause before Blake shrugged with a clank and, having rejected the furnace, led the others back out of the Death God's vault and to the nearest portal which happened to be one that led to outside in Mulsantir. They had not slept late and had not spent that long on the Shadow Plane so the morning was not far advanced and the pleasant, though winter-weak, sunshine was a welcome change. Having swapped helmet and chainmail hood for hat and a bare neck the cooling breeze could be felt on Blake strapped his shield to his back and decided to head for the marketplace. If nothing else it would let them buy some more supplies before their meal and seeing if a boat was awaiting them at the docks.

To Blake's pleasure, and Neeshka's annoyance, there was a distinctive figure wandering the stalls. The ruckus of the marketplace seemed to dwindle wherever Kaelyn went, her half-celestial serenity smothering the rough life of the mortal world and the bartering. She glanced across as Blake approached her but her face showed no welcome and no anger and no curiosity. "You have returned," Kaelyn said in her detached voice. "Why?"

"Two reasons," Blake replied, "the first being that the Priest Spirit spoke to me when we realised my spirit-eater curse might be used to grant him rest."

"Ah, that is good," said Kaelyn, almost managing to sound pleased rather than indifferent. "He had suffered long."

"Indeed," Blake agreed, reaching into his bag, "and in the ashes of the Furnace we found this." Kaelyn's eyes actually widened very slightly as expression almost came to her face when she saw what Blake was holding out. "It is not the actual sword," he continued, "but it may be the key to the lower levels you sought. There seemed, at least, nothing else in the Furnace that could be the key the Spirits said was hidden within."

Kaelyn carefully took the replica. "You have my thanks then, and my search may continue."

"Be cautious," Blake warned. "The Priest also mentioned those levels had been sealed since the time of Myrkul's death, when followers of Cyric assaulted that vault, so whatever lies below has been trapped there for centuries."

"Your concern touches me," said Kaelyn, though her emotionless voice made that sound sarcastic, "but with Ilmater's blessing I will succeed. There is too much I need to know, too much injustice I need to fight, for me to falter now."

"Very well," Blake replied. "My second reason is to simply ask whether you had heard of this spirit-eater curse in your research of Akachi's Crusade?"

Kaelyn frowned as she thought a moment, "There were references to a hunger that could never be sated, to eternal longing, which could be fitting to your plight. Why?"

"The shaman at the Berserker Lodge said the spirits had told him of a connection."

"Then there may well be one," admitted Kaelyn, "but not one I have any true insight to offer on, save that I have heard nothing to contradict that."

"Then the luck of Tymorra be with you in your quest," Blake replied, "may Oghma grant you knowledge and the inspiration to allow you to best use it."

"And those blessings to you in yours," responded Kaelyn politely, "and I pray Ilmater helps you endure your suffering as you seek your answers."

Blake nodded respectfully to her and then moved away from Kaelyn to where the others were waiting. Neeshka of course had kept her distance and Okku had judged the marketplace too crowded for his presence. Gann seemed to have just been people watching, admiring the wives and daughters and sisters shopping and relying on the natural reluctance of the husbands and fathers and brothers to do more than glare at someone standing next to a bear-god.

They moved down the short hill and into the Sloop Inn. As they entered Zorah gave them a slight glare as known troublemakers but then her warning expression changed to one of shock as Okku squeezed himself through the door. The main room was quiet and relatively tidy. The actors were somewhere else, perhaps sleeping off their drunkenness of the previous night, and the remains of the pirates and the evidence of their slaughter had long since vanished. Blake, Neeshka, and Gann sat with Okku settling down near their table. After a few moments, during which a waitress shook her head several times, Vladek approached them.

"Hello again my friends," Vladek said, looking at Okku and not really blaming his waitress for her reluctance to approach, "I hope no more fighting today."

"So do I," replied Blake, "though I do also hope for a good hot meal to travel on."

"That we can provide," Vladek said, before adding, "even if our kitchen is not as fully staffed as it would be if we had people staying in the suite. We did lose those guests though, a few hours before the guards searched the room and shortly after you spoke to Shelvedar."

"What a strange coincidence," commented Blake, "I hope they did not break anything."

"They were very careful," Vladek replied.

From her post by the door Zorah grunted and nodded. The guards had been rather too eager about the idea of searching and too puffed up with their own mission and importance. After she had held their leader off the ground by his throat and, while his face turned purple, informed them they were liable for anything they broke or that went missing they had been more inclined to behave, especially as she had followed and watched their search with occasional scowls.

"For your meal what would you wish?" continued Vladek. "Certainly can feed three of you though I am doubt we have enough in our stores for honoured Okku."

"I need no food," Okku rumbled, "and if I did regain the ability to eat I'd not want it cooked or even for it to have been dead for longer than the few seconds since I killed it myself. I am no scavenger to feed on meat dead for hours that I did not take myself."

"A relief that is great-one," replied Vladek, "would take gold and haggling to have an extra delivery to refill the storeroom."

"Bacon," Blake ordered. "Eggs, either scrambled or fried. Toasted bread with cheese. Beef sausages… do you have cold cuts of pork and chicken?"

"We do," said Vladek, nodding as he memorised the order.

"Then some of those as well for later," Blake replied.

Vladek began to turn away and then paused. Blake looked at him, put some gold coins on the table, and looked at him again. Reassured that Blake had the coin to pay for the meal the inn owner hurried off. A few minutes, and some shouting at the kitchen drudges and the reluctant waitress, later the waitress approached the table with some thick toasted bread and some hunks of cheese. Blake frowned but accepted this rather than insisting the cheese be toasted onto the bread as there were platters of bacon and sausage and eggs both scrambled and fried approaching.

Some haggling over the price of the meal and much happy chomping later the edge seemed to have been taken off the hunger enough to speak. Neeshka had looked quite impressed as Blake worked his way through such a large breakfast, though also a little concerned. If they had been able to find privacy this appetite would have been worked up more honestly, but as they had not this might be an effect of the curse.

"Despite what the Gargoyles said," Blake finally commented, swallowing a mouthful of toasted bread and sausage, "still Ashenwood first I think. The Red Wizard scheme would be hard to untangle and the 'red lady' won't get any more dead if she has been killed and if we delay."

"Hmmm," mused Gann, "I would, as I said, like to see this Sunken City but very well. Perhaps, in the time we spend travelling to seek the Wood Man, I will dream more details of that city that will aid us."

"Or perhaps you'll just dream of yet more willing farmgirls," Neeshka said, her worry for Blake leading her to distract herself by gibing at Gann.

"I can but hope," replied Gann smoothly, "though I shall not dream of unwilling Tieflings."

"You had best not," Blake muttered.

"Now, now… I am used to that reaction from anxious fathers, so I will not take it amiss but I assure you, _despite_ what the Witches say, I do not go where I am unwelcome."

"Surprised you go anywhere then," Neeshka said with mock sweetness.

Blake nodded and chased a bit of fried egg around his plate with some toast as Gann half bowed his head in the manner of a fencer acknowledging a touch. Gann could tell Neeshka was worried and so he did not take her comments to heart. If this banter took her mind off her concerns then being a target for it was a service a gentleman could provide. Eventually even Blake could eat no more and after thanking Vladek they left. The docks of Mulsantir were not as extensive as Neverwinter's so it was only a short walk down them to the other end where a man was standing watching their approach. He seemed to be expecting them so Blake took a guess.

"Are you Vaszil?" Blake asked.

"That I am," replied the old man, "and I know who you must be. The Witches say you need a boat. A faster way you won't find to the Ashenwood, unless you know Witch-magic." Vaszil turned and bowed his head in respect, "An honour it would be for you to take my boat as a gift, great bear-king."

"Hmh. I could swim across the river but…" Okku rumbled in reply before admitting, "carrying even one of you with me would be difficult and Ashenwood is far to the north."

"This boat will carry you true to the forest, three day journey if the winds are kind," claimed Vaszil, his tone humble before the bear-god, before turning back to Blake and speaking more normally to comment, "though you don't have the look of a sailor about you."

"Not much water in a swamp that's not mixed with mud," Blake admitted. "I should be able to manage though, if I can attune myself to the magic that has been placed on that craft."

"A fair warning you've been given then," replied Vaszil, not that concerned for the outlanders or the Hagspawn as he knew Okku could swim well. "May the winds be at your back, so you've no need to tack… The command word to activate the boat is 'Wendersnaven'."

"'Wendersnaven'?" Neeshka commented as Vaszil left. "Like those invisible things Grobnar wanted us to look for?"

Blake shrugged and approached the boat. "Ahem, 'Wendersnaven'…" Blake said, adding after a pause, "ah, that worked."

The boat quivered as Blake spoke the command word. The difference was subtle, the boat did not move, but it was like the difference between seeing a corpse and seeing that same thing in a deep sleep. It seemed to be riding the small waves of the lake rather than simply floating on them. Blake paused a moment as he drew in a deep breath and drew in some insight into how the weave was winding itself around this craft.

"Quite lively," Blake commented, "and the magics feel quite eager to sail, like a horse too long between gallops."

"Let's just get onboard," smiled Neeshka, "at least we don't have a Dwarf to get seasick."

"Technically here it would be lake-sick," Gann pointed out.

Neeshka stuck her tongue out at him as they boarded. The planks of the deck creaked as Okku tried to find enough room and then there was a thump as he settled himself down. Blake checked the boat over and nodded as he found some supplies in barrels and crates within the small deckhouse. Casting one last look at Mulsantir he started removing some of his armour so he could swim a little better.

"Take us to Ashenwood," Blake commanded, once he had removed the plates and was down to chainmail.

The ropes tying the boat to the jetty writhed and withdrew themselves back into coils on the deck. Other ropes loosened and let themselves pass over blocks so the sails unfurled and were set to the right angles. Neeshka jumped slightly to dodge as a boom swung so the light wind could fill that sail. Slowly the Witchboat began to move. A little of the magic moved it directly to give it some steerage way and get it out of the wind-shadow of the town while most of the magic worked on ropes and rudder to sail the boat. Blake nodded in satisfaction and went back to undressing and sorting himself out some light armour for the voyage.


	7. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Days passed in calm. Blake spent a lot of time meditating and layering extra barriers around his hunger, suppressing it to his will. The laundry was done and despite the chill air did dry in the rigging. Gann grumbled when Blake insisted on him retreating into the deckhouse while Neeshka bathed in the lake water Blake magically warmed. This was almost spoiled by giggles from Neeshka that she barely prevented. She was not modest so she would have been happy for Gann to stay on deck as long as he didn't stare too much, and the woebegone look Gann cast her showed he knew this and was grumbling as part of them both teasing her harbour-boy. Blake seemed happy though with having prevented a non-existent threat to Neeshka's modesty so they let him have that triumph. If it distracted him from his problems to think he needed to protect Neeshka against Gann then she was willing to pretend to not be immune to the flattery that Gann was willing to provide.

"Hrnh," Okku mused as Blake checked he had packed everything. "It will be good to get off this boat, little one. It was hardly designed to accommodate a spirit of my…stature."

"Aye, was fortunate they gave us a witch-boat. With the size of you, my friend, and the amount of room on deck it would have been difficult trying to move around adjusting things by hand rather than magic."

There was a few minutes silence aside from the hiss of water past the hull and the creaking of rope and wood of the Witchboat. Blake peered ahead until Okku suddenly raised his great head and sniffed at the air. "Spawn of Hags, do you scent that?" he demanded to Gann.

"I scent little but how your fur has got damp despite it being of spirit energy, god of bears…" Gann replied, moving to join them, "no, wait. Yes, I think I do."

"Scent what?" asked Blake, turning back and away from looking along their path.

"Your curse is like a rock in a fast flowing stream, away from you the flow is swift but clear and glimpses may be had of the fish or streambed. Around you though the flow foams and tumbles…"

"What the long-winded shaman is trying to say, little one," Okku interrupted, "is that all is not right in the Ashenwood but we could not scent it over your curse until we got close."

"If I did not know better, which of course I do, the turmoil is such I'd almost fear another spirit-eater afflicted the Ashenwood," commented Gann. "But there is only ever one bearer of that curse at one time and we know where he is."

Blake closed his eyes for a moment and cursed to himself, almost, under his breath. A slender hand slid onto his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. Blake opened his eyes and turned his head to look into the sweet face of his beloved. The sight of her, as always, buoyed his spirits.

"You thinking they'll want us to solve the problems?" Neeshka asked sympathetically.

"Yes," replied Blake with a half-smile, "though I was also thinking that if they have problems of their own the 'hard bitten Witch distrustful of foreigners' will be even less inclined to spare us any time."

"Come, come," Gann chided him, "if you were expecting any time, or any aid, then you were showing more optimism than I gave you credit for."

The Witchboat continued to sail and approach the jetty. Blake wondered if he should don more armour, whether he had the time or the need to try to wear more than the chain shirt he had on. It would not take long to buckle on the Mithril breast and back plate of his full armour over the chain that was normally under them. Then it was too late as the garrison came within sight and a wry smile came to Blake's face.

"Turmoil you said Gann?"

"Indeed, and the garrison being under attack would certainly qualify."

There was a great splash and the Witchboat rocked alarmingly as Okku moved and dove over the side. He began swimming vigorously to shore and Blake wished they'd tied a rope to him as he'd heard stories of fishermen using large dogs to tow a dinghy in. "Witch-boat, bring us into the jetty with haste."

Ropes writhed and the mainsail unfurled a little so the Witchboat picked up speed. Blake cast one last look at the deckhouse where the rest of his armour was, then shrugged, pulled up his chainmail hood, and buckled on his helmet and shield. Okku had reached the shore already and was bounding through the snow towards the giant plant creatures, Treants and Shambling Mounds, that looked to be trying to force their way through the nearside gate. Despite Gann's comment on the smell of damp fur his spirit form seemed to have not got wet in swimming so there was no spray of water from his fur as he ran.

Blake braced himself to keep his balance and then with a thump the Witchboat struck the jetty. Had Blake not ordered haste this would have been a slower gentler docking. The Witchboat's ropes writhed again as it furled its sails and before it could bounce off too far from the impact Blake jumped across, resolving to check for leaks in case some planks had been jarred apart. One foot slid slightly on the ice that had formed from snow and frozen lake spray but Blake kept on his feet. Neeshka jumped across and made it look so easy Gann was not as cautious as he should have been, he still stayed on his feet but there was a thud as he slammed his spear butt down like a walking staff to stop his fall.

"Witchboat, secure yourself," Blake ordered.

Ropes whipped out from the Witchboat like the tentacles of some sea-monster or huge striking snakes and wrapped themselves around mooring posts. Neeshka stepped back a little as the ropes went taut and began pulling the Witchboat back in the foot or two it had drifted away from the jetty. Blake was already trotting towards the shore and the cleared path up to the garrison, drawing his sword as he went.

"It… looks like Okku needs little aid," commented Blake as he assessed the fight ahead, "but we may as well contribute."

"That does seem polite," Gann replied, "he might take it amiss if we simply stand by and cheer."

Neeshka frowned a little as she looked at what they were going to fight. This looked more a job for an axe, or a clumsy sword like her harbour-boy's, that could hack things apart rather than a delicate blade with a delicate owner like her. The guardians in Okku's barrow had been annoying enough with making there no point in being able to stab through chinks in armour into vital organs, and at least they had been soft and not that large. Still, as little as she cared if Okku took standing by amiss, she was going to 'contribute' because there was no way in the Hells she was going to let Blake fight without her help.

Blake paused a moment and Neeshka knew what was coming. To her lack of surprise he muttered a familiar invocation and a ball of flame formed and split and arced away from him as he cast _Firebrand_. The fireballs spent themselves against the plant-creatures but they were cold and damp and, though they smouldered a little, they did not catch fire. It did however get their attention and one Shambling Mound made the mistake of turning to look back down the path at where the fire had come from.

Okku moved, one great paw swinging around through the back of the Shambling Mound's legs like a scythe through grass. Chunks of shredded greenery flew and the Shambling Mound fell backwards to sprawl in the snow. Okku pounced and landed on its chest where he started clawing at it like a Badger digging and swiftly making a large hole as he hollowed out the Mound. A Treant creaked forward, one arm rising to strike and drive the wicked looking spikes of its branch-fingers into Okku. As these came down to impale Okku though the bear-god moved again and off the Mound's ruined chest to one side and back.

The branch-fingers sank into the Shambling Mound and entangled themselves as their rough bark caught on the shredded stems that were all that was left of its chest. Blake attacked as the Treant tried to tug its hand free and unravelled its ally a little more. There was a thock any woodsman would find familiar as metal blade met wood and Blake chopped a large chunk free of the Treant's arm. The Treant pulled back all the harder but this and the force of Blake's blow was too much for its weakened arm as with a cracking the remaining wood splintered and its arm sagged like a tree branch hit but not quite severed by lightning. Okku circled back to join Gann and Neeshka as Blake also retreated a little and the two remaining Shambling Mounds and two remaining Treants, one now wounded, turned to face them.

"How do you fight these?" demanded Gann. "My spear would become wedged in them if I strike too hard."

"At least you have a spear," Neeshka pointed out, "and a little extra reach with it."

"The answer is simple anyway," growled Okku, "you fight them by ripping and tearing them until they stop moving."

Blake thought through the spells he had prepared and what might be effective as the plant-creatures began to move. There was one that would work better on these than it did on most foes, and it was generally effective even without the extra advantage. This would be the first time he had cast it in full armour but it had been worth practising in that roadside cave towards being able to do this. Without that to concentrate on through that seemingly long night Blake was unsure if he'd have been able to resist the sleeping Neeshka during their journey from Okku's barrow to Mulsantir. He muttered the invocation of _Horrid Wilting_ and a mist of magic energy with strange illusionary plants sprang up around a Shambling Mound. The pitcher-plant like central masses of the illusions pulsed and spewed a stream of yellower dust into the mist. The Shambling Mound was large enough this effect barely caught its allies to either side of it but almost instantly its greenery wilted and shrivelled to brown, its plant nature making it more vulnerable to this spell.

Okku sprang forward again at the Treant with the splintered arm. It swung its other arm to stab at Okku with its branch-fingers but Okku turned and bit at that arm, his jaws closing over what would have been the forearm. Okku pulled back with the momentum of the Treant's swing, overbalancing it, and then released. Before the Treant could recover Okku was attacking, his huge claws scoring deep furrows into the bark of its trunk and keeping it off balance.

Meanwhile Gann had started stabbing his spear rather hesitantly towards the wooden face of the other Treant. He hoped its eyes would be softer than the rest of it or that at least those were truly eyes that could be blinded. Blake looked at the wilted Shambling Mound as it had collapsed into a brown mound rather than continuing to shamble and judged that dealt with. He moved forward into range of the other Shambling Mound and started hacking at it like a man trying to clear an overgrown path. Large flailing sweeps of his blade bit into the intertwined stalks and stems of the Mound. Seeing this Neeshka had joined him though the smaller more precise movements of her rapier were more like a gardener trimming a hedge back into shape.

The Shambling Mound fell as enough of it was separated from the mass for its binding life force to have too little body to entwine with. Blake gave it a few more hacks and then glanced across to where Gann was still holding off the Treant. The problem for Gann was not only did he have to worry about getting his spearhead stuck but the Treant was large enough the reach of its arm was near as long as his spear. Blake gathered his concentration and power and sent a _Scintillating Sphere_ at Gann's distracted opponent. Like lightning hitting a tree the water of the sap flashed into steam where the sphere struck and a section of bark exploded away. It was not a large section or a deep crater but Gann nodded in thanks and began stabbing at the softer living heartwood that had been exposed. Blake looked back and saw Neeshka had made sure of the Shambling Mound and that the other was not moving; that just left the Treants… or rather the Treant.

Okku rumbled happily as he abandoned the pile of scrap lumber that had been a Treant. He spat out a mouthful of wood pulp and felt pleased that as a spirit he did not have to worry about splinters. Even if they pierced his form they would be rejected by it and pushed out by his healing like those arrows had been. Two long bounds brought him to where the Hagspawn was whittling away at the Treant and Okku swung. A huge paw slammed into the Treant opposite where Blake had blasted away some wood and where Gann had stabbed away some more. There was a crack as the trunk of the Treant bent and broke and split in two and the Treant died as its trunk cracked apart.

Blake looked around. Behind them the Witchboat seemed to be still floating normally so Beshaba had been merciful in not adding the accident of a bashed in plank and sinking boat to the misfortune that seemed to be afflicting this garrison. Ahead of them a masked woman was looking at two corpses that the Mounds had stamped flat and the Treants mangled with their sharp wood branch-fingers. The way she moved suggested a young woman rather than someone senior enough to be in command here, so Blake wondered who this Witch was if not Dalenka. Cleaning sap off his sword he sheathed it and began walking.

"Two more lost. We cannot afford this… not now," the young Witch said, mostly to herself, as Blake approached. "Dalenka said they wouldn't think to attack from this side. Where is she?"

"I am sorry for your loss," said Blake politely, noting he was right this was not Dalenka. "May Kelemvor…" Blake paused, thought about where he was. "Or the spirits judge them fairly and grant them their just reward."

"Thank you, and please, forgive my rudeness," replied the young Witch, apologising needlessly. "I have been greatly troubled lately. I am Nadaj, welcome to the Lake of Tears garrison. You see it in its final days."

"Final days?" Blake asked. "Your stockade looks sturdy enough as do your buildings, but you said 'two _more_ lost' so I take it that this was not an isolated attack?"

"We are no longer welcome here. The Ashenwood has decided it."

Blake glanced at Neeshka as they both remembered the people and animals driven out of Merdelain by the spreading darkness of the King of Shadows. As deadly as the Treants and Shambling Mounds were they seemed simpler to fight than that invisible taint that drained life and replaced it with Undeath.

"That attack did seem unwelcoming, but…" Blake began.

"These attacks are only part of the problem," Nadaj said, answering the question Blake was about to ask of if there was more to it. "A few days ago, after the first attacks, we sent Berserkers into the forest with offerings to appease the spirits. When they did not return we sent more. We were stretched thin before that, now we are making our last stand."

"Hmm," mused Blake, "I could look for your Berserkers, I am seeking the Wood Man and thus need to go into the forest anyway."

"Harbour-boy!" Neeshka hissed in annoyance. "Helpfulness!"

"We need whatever good will we can get," Blake whispered back.

"You misunderstand," said Nadaj, "my Berserkers are not missing, they are gone, claimed by the forest just as this garrison is soon to be. Yet, if you are here to contact the Wood Man perhaps we are not at cross-purposes."

"I hope not," Blake replied, a twinge of suspicion in his heart. "If my actions help the both of us then all the better."

"You will need to speak to Dalenka first," continued Nadaj. "As a Hathran, a Witch, she is the only one who can grant you access to the Ashenwood."

"Are you not also a Hathran?" Blake asked in puzzlement, looking at the mask covering Nadaj's upper face.

"I am an Ethran," said Nadaj. "An… acolyte, you might say, to the Hathrans. The lowest of their order. The Witches' pecking order is based on age rather than talent. In time I will be equal to the other Hathrans, but for now I must be patient."

"I am sure your patience will be rewarded," Blake replied politely, surprised this calm commanding woman was the same rank as the rather fluttery Katya. "Is there any advice you can offer?"

"Most Rashemi are not welcoming of strangers and Dalenka is no different," added Nadaj, ignoring Neeshka's snort of 'tell us something we don't know'. "If she does not react favourably to your request we may need to discuss other options."

Blake paused a moment, discussing other options sounded like it had the potential to get messy but seemed better than sailing back Mulsantir without having achieved anything but to aid against a single attack. "I will speak with Dalenka then and see what welcome I get."

"Since she did not aid against that last attack," Nadaj pointed, "she is likely within that building, her house."

As they walked the short distance to that house Blake frowned a little as he noticed Dalenka was not the only one that had not aided against the attack. There were five Berserkers clustered near the closed barred gates on the other side of the garrison from where their brothers had fought and died. They had remained there while one of the Witches they served and two of their comrades had fought and, in the case of the two Berserkers, died. As important as it was to keep that entrance guarded the gates looked strong enough to hold for a time while two or three of that five dashed back across the compound to aid their brothers on the lake side.

Pushing the door open Blake felt some welcome warmth escape and past him. Near the door was a well-stocked bookcase and in a corner was a loom so it seemed this Dalenka had diversions other than the Keg that Blake saw on a table. The stonework seemed well cut and the warmth of the fireplace and stove not able to escape through gaps in it even without the aid of the tapestries hanging on the walls. Dalenka was not in sight so they walked the short distance to their left to look down the other part of the L shaped building and some of Blake's faint hopes faded even further to vanish at the sight of the body language of the Witch standing behind her desk.

"The forest has gone mad, and I can find no explanation," sneered Dalenka, her tone full of disdain, before Blake could speak. "I ask the spirits, I pray to the gods, I search within my heart. Nothing. To think all I had to do was wait, and the solution would walk right in through the front door, drawn here for reasons hollow as its soul."

"Hmm," sighed Blake, as unsure about being called the solution as he was about being accused of having a hollow soul.

This Witch was reacting to his arrival the same way a Noblewoman would react to the arrival in front of her of a plate of peasant-fare rather than a fine meal. Blake was aware of how much Tymorra had smiled on him with good fortune, that he was alive proved that, and was grateful to Milil for the eloquence he had granted him on occasion but Blake was not sure he was favoured enough by either God to succeed here.

"Nadaj said I should talk to you," Blake said, deciding to make the effort, "I need to speak to the Wood Man."

"I _know_ why you have come, stranger, and the answer is no," replied Dalenka, her old thin lips tightening in hostility. "I will _not_ abet this fool's errand of yours. I will _not_ be the one who allowed you to complete the destruction your kind has wrought here."

"If I sought destruction," Blake suggested reasonably, keeping his temper in check, "would Okku choose to travel with me, to help me seek a cure?"

"I know _what_ you are stranger," snapped Dalenka. "In the face of that who you are matters little and I am pleased that Okku is with you so _when_ you falter you may be slain." She drew herself up with a magnificent sneer. "I no longer have the manpower to keep you out of the forest, but you shall receive no guidance from me. May you meet your fate in the forest as swiftly as my Berserkers met theirs. Good day."

"Madame," Blake replied, some annoyance seeping into his tone, "you _do_ realise that if I, as you hope, meet a swift fate then all that means is the curse will pass to someone else. Someone perhaps less inclined to fight it rather than embrace it. Surely helping me in my efforts makes more sense than…"

"Your efforts _will_ fail and whatever help I have given will then, at best, be irrelevant if Okku kills you or, at worst, be misused by what you have become," said Dalenka, impervious to Blake's arguments. "Again, I bid you Good Day!"

Neeshka stepped forward and Blake was not sure if she intended to give Dalenka the sharp edge of her tongue or the sharp point of her rapier. There was a temptation to let this happen but Blake placed a hand on Neeshka's arm to restrain her. Her eyes flashed at Blake from within her hood but she didn't protest.

"And _good day_ to you Madame," Blake said, infusing as much sarcasm into his voice as he could.

With that they left, barely getting outside before Neeshka was glaring at Blake with enough heat to melt the snow off the building's roof. He knew the anger was, mostly, directed towards Dalenka and was on his behalf rather than his actions but it was still an impressive glare.

"She is not worth it," Blake argued, as calmly as he could under an almost full strength Tiefling glare. "She is not worth the breath to argue with. She is not worth the trouble killing her would bring. If she becomes a threat though, rather than just no help, then that would change but not until then."

Neeshka nodded reluctantly, being diplomatic was frustrating, but she didn't release her complaints as Nadaj was approaching. Besides her harbour-boy had said they would kill her if she became a threat so he wasn't being too nice and too merciful about this.

"Were you able to get what you came for?" Nadaj asked.

"I got access to the Ashenwood, though only because Dalenka felt she could not keep me out and she hopes I will die there, preferably very soon. As to finding the Wood Man I am on my own."

"Not entirely," Nadaj corrected, giving a small smile. "I am not surprised by Dalenka, but I will tell you all I know."

"Whatever you can tell me of how to find the Wood Man will be of use I am sure," smiled Blake in return, allowing a note of flattery.

"The Wood Man is the soul of the forest, you might say. If anyone were able to put an end to the attacks on the garrison, as well as answer your questions, it would be him. I myself went into the Ashenwood to try to speak with him only a few days ago, he was not there and no Telthor has seen him lately it seems."

"If he is the soul of the forest how could he be gone?" asked Blake.

"I do not think he is gone, not entirely," replied Nadaj, "it may only be that he is too weak to show himself. The Telthors spoke of problems deep in the wood. New problems that threaten its survival…"

Blake kept an 'oomph' from escaping him as Neeshka elbowed him in the gut. She didn't seem to have made allowances for that he was not wearing a plates over there, or was still annoyed about Dalenka, so this was quite a hard prod. Blake looked down at her and she grinned quickly up at him over her shoulder. He half-nodded back to her, neither of them needed Oghma's inspiration to see where this talk of problems was heading.

"The Wood Man's strength is not what it once was," added Nadaj, "and if the forest is weakened so too is he."

"So," Blake said slowly, hoping he was wrong but sure he was not, "to speak with the Wood Man these problems need to be solved so he will have the strength to manifest and to speak?"

"I believe that is the case, yes," replied Nadaj. "These problems are all new since the last time the Wood Man was seen…"

"Told you," Neeshka muttered quietly as Nadaj paused to gather her thoughts.

"I know," said Blake, equally quietly.

"The Telthors mentioned a number of large threats to the forest," Nadaj continued. "Blight has infected an entire section of it and it appears to be spreading."

"And the last attack, at least," nodded Blake, "was by blighted creatures."

"Yes," Nadaj agreed, her tone suggesting surprise Blake had noticed. "Obviously this is not just by chance. There is also word of a large fire far to the south. It is not known how this was started, we have had no lightning storm here for some time."

"Hmm," mused Blake, "you haven't recently seen a young woman? Fairly short with slender curves, neck length orange-red hair, possibly wearing a chain shirt?"

"No," Nadaj replied, sounding very puzzled, "nothing like that. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," said Blake, wondering to himself if that answer was a relief or not. Qara's power would have been welcome but Okku's patience might have not been equal to tolerating her personality. Or they might have got on well as they both had great power they were happy to release at the slightest provocation. The larger problem might have been Gann and how she might react to his seductions.

Nadaj looked at Blake for a moment before continuing. "The last problem is that a Telthor sanctuary to the east has been overrun by intruders that refuse to leave. The sanctuary has been a haven for Telthors for many ages, to lose it would be devastating to the health of the forest."

"I think I understand the problems," Blake nodded, "but if not…?"

"I suppose if you find yourself in need of additional guidance you might travel to the Immil Vale and visit the Red Tree there," Nadaj advised. "It is not far by boat… it lies in the mountains just east of the Ashenwood. The tree is home, you might say, to two of my Wychlaran sisters, Imsha and Tamlith. They died long ago but persist as Telthors and their wisdom is unsurpassed in my order." She paused. "Once you have solved these problems return here and we will discuss the means by which the Wood Man may be summoned."

"Indeed," Blake nodded in farewell before they moved away.

"Hah," snorted Neeshka moments later, containing herself just long for them to get out of earshot. "'Once _you_ have solved these problems'."

"Yes," Blake replied with a wry smile, "I know. You were right back on the Witchboat, we ended up expected to help."

"The Wood Man is an ancient spirit," frowned Gann mildly, "he would be worth aiding even without your personal motivation."

"Exactly," Blake replied, both eyebrows rising, "so why don't _they_ aid him? It is important to me to speak with him but his well-being would be even more important to them, so why have they not acted? I trust our skills but I doubt we can do more than they could have done with two Witches and a garrison of Berserkers."

"I think, little one," rumbled Okku in amusement, "that sometimes you do not realise your own power."

"I like it!" Neeshka declared. "Means he is still the same harbour-boy at heart."

"All right, I have endured that long enough," said Gann, losing patience, "why do you keep on calling him harbour-boy?"

"People from my home village of West Harbour are known as Harbourmen," Blake supplied, sounding distracted as most of his thoughts were on the problems. "Neeshka though decided on a more diminutive term for me."

"Oh," replied Gann, looking disappointed, "I was hoping for something more… juicy, but at least now that mystery has been solved for me. Only a few hundred or a few thousand left to go."

Blake nodded and looked across at the sun. "Getting dark, let's rest until dawn and set out then."

"You rest, little ones," murmured Okku. "I shall sniff around the walls. See what clues I can find and guard against any disturbances."

"Thank you my friend", Blake replied.

The night soon passed with Neeshka, Gann, and Blake returning to the Witchboat where Blake was relieved to confirm the hull was still sound. With Okku prowling ashore rather than on her deck the Witchboat felt rather spacious. They had been sleeping in shifts in the deckhouse on the voyage but that would be rather cramped for all three of them so they fixed up a sail as a tent over part of the deck to keep the snow off. Stones heated in a fire ashore took the chill off their bedding and the air under the tent and within the deckhouse. Blake had intended Neeshka to sleep within the deckhouse but she preferred the chance to snuggle, even if it was too cold to undress to do more, so Gann had the minor extra luxury. This had also answered a question for Blake as Neeshka had removed the various pieces of leather and cloth but left her chainmail on in case Dalenka tried to force them to leave, so he'd finally found out what the fine Mithril chain looked like without those.

Okku's grumblings of impatience woke them soon after dawn and with the haste the chill air induced they got dressed. Blake felt rather more comfortable being able to don his full armour and especially since his padded under-armour was almost as good at keeping him warm as it was at absorbing bludgeoning blows. Neeshka huddled into her cloak as they walked up the path to the open gate on the lake side and across the garrison to the closed gate on the wood side. Even she wasn't sure if this was for warmth or concealment, but the thick fur did a good job of both.

Blake looked at the Berserker guards who looked back at him standing there in full plate, his helmet securely on his head and his shield firmly strapped to his arm. Their eyes were slightly contemptuous, though whether they were taking their cue from their obnoxious leader Dalenka or whether their clan was one that felt too much armour was the sign of a weakling Blake neither knew nor cared. Behind him Okku rumbled slightly at the delay as Blake and the Berserkers continued to look at each other.

"Open the gate."

"Of… course," sneered one Berserker, "and may you meet the fate you deserve in the Ashenwood."

"Yes," Blake replied as the gate creaked open, "though I think we would disagree over what that fate should be."

"I also think so," agreed the other Berserker, "or that metal would be holding your corpse to bed of lake rather than being used to protect your soft skin and…"

"You noticed?" Gann interrupted before turning to face Blake. "They noticed how soft your skin is, how much care you take over it…"

"What?" asked Blake, before catching on, "oh, yes, all that time washing and massaging it, keeping the cold air and lake spray off, being careful to avoid calluses…"

"The hours I have to spend rubbing moisturising oils _all_ over him," Neeshka said in her most sultry voice, "massaging them in and making sure that _every_ part of his skin stays soft and supple…"

"That especially is a real trial from Sharess," nodded Blake, mentioning the Goddess of sensual fulfilment and grinning at the Berserkers, "so _thank you_ for noticing I have soft skin. I do have to work at it."

The Berserkers looked at each other as Blake and Gann and Neeshka started down the path towards the Ashenwood. That had turned strange, battling with staring eyes and then trading insults they understood but having someone take an insult as a compliment and then his friends agree with him was not normal. It was almost a relief to the Berserkers when Okku growled at them in passing. Honest anger and threat was much more how things should be.

Snow had drifted deep in the forest and lay thick on the bare branches of the trees but the path itself was relatively clear. Blake was quite glad this was snow rather than having been trampled into ice. As they moved deeper into the forest there was a swirl of motion as ghostly animals began to appear and move about in whatever they would do now they no longer had the demands of flesh to occupy their time. Within him Blake felt his curse twitch and try to reach out towards these spirits; he let it extend itself and then clamped down hard. The curse struggled but its resistance only proved to it, and to Blake, that he could subdue it even when it had a yearning for spirits within its reach to fuel its struggles. It was still not broken to Blake's will but forcing it down when there were spirits to tempt it out felt more effective in breaking it than if there were none, save Okku, nearby.

Okku rumbled as Blake paused and he felt the ripples of the internal struggle. This 'little-one' seemed to be mastering the curse well and subduing it as a wolf would a challenger to the pack leadership. Even the strongest wolf though got old and tired or could fail to take a challenge seriously in his arrogance so the bear-god resolved to keep his careful watch for any such mistake. For now however this man seemed worthy of the oath to aid him.

The path wound on until they reached a large clearing in the centre of which was a vast tree with four smaller trees equally spaced around it. This arrangement did not have the randomness of nature but was not the most unusual part of the scene. "That tree seems to be glowing," Blake commented, pointing, "And the ground around it has no snow."

"Indeed, and this giant ash tree still bears its summer leaves," Gann replied, noticing another detail. "If the Wood Man has a home, it must be here… but as the Ethran warned I do not sense him."

Blake nodded slowly. "Let's explore around a little, see what else we can discover. There seems a path that might lead to the Telthor Sanctuary and if _we_ are to solve the problems _we_ have to start somewhere."

Neeshka smiled in sympathy at the weariness in her harbour-boy's tone. Even with his tendency to be helpful having to do the Witches' job for them after the insults they had thrown his way seemed to be grating on his nerves. Someone less nice, or more nobly born and more conscious of his status, might have demanded satisfaction in an apology or in the blood of a duel over even a few of the provocations he had endured so far.

"Is that a ghost?" Neeshka asked as a small lake came into view and a figure swirled into form.

"A Telthor, yes," murmured Okku. "He may know much of use."

"And Oghma willing be inclined to share that much of use," Blake commented, putting a diplomatic smile onto his face as they approached.

"You should flee from this place, hunter," said the Telthor, ignoring how heavily armoured Blake was compared with the lighter less noisy leather a hunter would prefer. "It's no longer under Telthor protection."

"Sounds safer then," Neeshka muttered to Blake, winking at him when he glanced down at her.

"Hrrnnn," grumbled Okku.

Neeshka turned and returned the glare Okku was giving her. He did not like the suggestion a place would be safer without the protection of the spirits of the land and felt that just because the Telthors in his barrow and then in his army had tried to kill Neeshka and Blake was no reason to make that suggestion. Neeshka though felt that was more than enough reason and that the fewer Telthors the better. Okku might have promised to aid her harbour-boy but the more Telthors they met the more chance that some would be hostile and the more they had to slay the more that would erode Okku's resolve to keep that promise.

"This sounds like a problem an Ethran called Nadaj mentioned," Blake replied to the Telthor, noticing but not commenting on the glaring match.

"There is nothing to be done about it," sighed the Telthor dispiritedly, "the Frost Giants are too many. Once there was refuge in the light of our sanctuary. Now the Frost Giants have taken over this part of the woods is open to any foul creature that crawls this way."

"Well," Blake prompted, trying to sound sympathetic and encouraging, "how did this happen?"

"I don't know why, but one day they just came through here, pushing aside ancient trees and crushing innocent creatures beneath their feet," came the doleful reply. "They took special liking to our sanctuary island. Their leader said it would be easy to defend once they took it. We fought to protect it, as we had so many times past, but this foe was too numerous and powerful. We were routed, to our great shame."

Blake nodded, noting that either there was a very great difference in forces or the island wasn't as easy to defend as the Frost Giant leader had said. "So, if I … remove… the Giants then all will be well?"

"Not entirely," the Telthor replied, "there is a little more to it than that. Like most things in this wood our sanctuary has existed for ages. Used to be that the spirit of a powerful Dryad watched over it. Supposedly its essence formed a barrier that nothing evil could ever cross."

"Used to be?" asked Blake.

"I couldn't say for sure, because it was before my time," said the Telthor, in the slightly defensive tone of someone who has only been told of events, "but it is said that hundreds of years ago an… unnatural creature came to these woods to feed. It came here not for flesh and blood but for the existence of the spirits that dwelt here. It was eventually repelled, but not before it tore the dryad spirit from our sanctuary."

"A spirit eater…" Blake hissed.

"You have heard of such a creature before?" said the Telthor in surprise.

"Yes," Blake said flatly. "Go on. Please."

"Well, without such a guardian our sanctuary has proven vulnerable to invasion despite how often we did manage to defend it," continued the Telthor. "In the centre of the island over there the remains of the Dryad's tree now hold a sacred pool. That is where the essence of the Dryad's spirit was housed and, put simply, it'd need to be replaced or this might happen again. Especially with how reduced our numbers are until some of us regain our form or more become Telthor and join us."

"Very well," Blake said with a nod. "We may be able to help."

"May it be so hunter," the Telthor replied, turning back to look longingly at the island he had been evicted from. A Frost Giant was just visible on the opposite shore and the gestures he was making as he saw the Telthor looking at him seemed uncomplimentary. Blake frowned at this and then led his group a little away from the Telthor and out of easy view of the island.

"Little one," rumbled Okku as soon as they were barely out of earshot of the Telthor, "these giants will not stand up to us. My claws and teeth and your spells and sword will drive them from this land."

"How about we tilt the odds in our favour first," Neeshka said tartly, disdainful as she was of the direct approach, "_before_ you go rushing in?"

"What are you thinking?" asked Blake, talking over Okku's harrumph. "You have that gleam in your eye."

"Giants," Neeshka smiled, "they're good at stomping on things, not so good at seeing them sneaking around."

"And what good will that do?" demanded Okku. "You may be able to hide from them but…"

"Wait," Blake interrupted, an idea dawning on him and continuing to speak as the Red Knight helped that grow into a plan. "We still have the spirit essence of the Priest. If anything of him lingers in this essence then this would be a fine fate, and if nothing lingers then this would be a good use of the energy within it."

Neeshka's smile widened as Blake proved they could think alike sometimes. "I bet you fifty gold I can take that essence and put it in the sacred pool without the Giants as much as twitching."

"No bet," Blake said with a grin as he handed the essence over, "I have faith in you my love."

"Aww… thanks," replied Neeshka, deciding that compliment was worth more than the fifty gold, "but in case we are both wrong…"

"Then we do it Okku's way."

She gave Blake a last smile and then moved away. Blake tried to not stare after Neeshka in case the Frost Giants were able to see his attitude and insightful enough to realise what his staring meant. He knew also that a sapling the width of a quarterstaff or a bush only large enough to barely hide a small rabbit would be enough cover for Neeshka to be able to sneak up on him or, in this case, away from him. Trying to keep track of her would have been wasted effort. Better to move back to the shore and look for where the best crossing place was.

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Neeshka slipped from tree to tree and around to the rear of the island. The Frost Giants were quite visible as they wandered around and quite audible as they boomed insults and banter back and forth. She didn't want to take success too for granted though as it only took one looking in the wrong place and crossing the water would be a problem. A warm summertime stream she'd be able to lay herself down into and move across with just the upper part of her face visible between breaths. This looked icy though so it could steal the heat from her body if she moved slowly to avoid splashing or submersed herself in it too much.

With a shiver of anticipation Neeshka waded in and began crossing the water. The last time she had felt this exposed was when the thug-soldiers from Fort Locke had been taunting her while her equipment, including her armour, had been locked in a chest. It was not a comfortable feeling but as the icy water seeped through the cloth over her thighs and she shivered again she knew it was more comfortable than if she had tried swimming more than wading.

Fortunately the Frost Giants seemed to be more concerned with what was happening at the front of the island and in straining their limited imaginations for new ways to refer to the figures they could see on that opposite shore. Silently Neeshka came ashore and began moving towards the centre of the island, keeping in the great footprints the Frost Giants had left, and somehow always being on the other side of any tree or bush to any Frost Giant eyes. The island was rather small so she soon reached what she hoped was the sacred pool.

One tree stump looked much the same as another to eyes used to city life but it was a large stump and there was water collected in it. Carefully Neeshka slipped the spirit essence from her pouch and placed it into the water. The essence sank slowly and for a moment Neeshka wondered if she was going to have to fish it out again but then it seemed to dissolve. Energy erupted from the stump, arcing out and freezing in mid air into a barrier around the island.

"Yay!" Neeshka said, very pleased with her success and that she had chosen the right stump. A Frost Giant turned and looked at the stump and then, as Neeshka spoke, shifted his gaze to her. "Ooops?"

"You," demanded the Frost Giant, striding towards her, "little bug, what you do?"

"Erm," Neeshka replied, giving her best innocent demure smile, "nothing?"

"No," replied the Frost Giant, not fooled by this complicated denial, "you did something! I stamp you flat until you answer why things shiny."

"Sorry," Neeshka purred, "I don't think my harbour-boy would like me as much if I was flat." With that she drew her rapier and stabbed out and up and into the Frost Giant's crotch.

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A falsetto scream echoed across the island and to the shore where Blake and the others were waiting. Blake had rather hoped that providing a new Guardian Spirit would expel the invaders, that 'no evil could cross the barrier' would also mean that no evil would be able to remain within the barrier, but now he tilted his head. "Sounds like Neeshka got insulted by one of them," Blake commented to the slightly puzzled looking Gann.

"I shall renew my efforts to not offer insult then," replied Gann, his expression shifting to a wince of realisation, "in the mean time…"

"Graaaaaaaahhhhhhh!" Okku roared, charging off across towards the island, great plumes of water splashing up around his feet.

"Aye," agreed Blake calmly, following Okku with less splashing.

A Frost Giant braced himself to meet Okku's charge, confident in his size and strength that so exceeded any puny human or Elf. Unfortunately for the Giant the same applied to Okku who was at least as much larger than a Mastiff than the Giant was a man. Like a huge dog going for the throat of an intruder Okku sprang, teeth tearing into the arm the Giant flung up to protect himself, his claws sinking into the Giant's upper chest and his weight bowling the Giant over backwards.

Another Giant moved to help his fellow but as he took a long stride he felt his leg collapse and pain shoot up his leg. One of the little bugs that had been following the roaring colour-bear had caught up and now there was hole in side of knee and blood on little bug's toothpick spear. The Giant stumbled and managed to shift weight as he brought his own proper-size hammer around and down to squash little bug.

Gann declined to be squashed though and sidestepped the clumsy attack as Okku raised his head from tearing out the throat of the Giant he had downed. There was a grunt of annoyance from the wounded Giant as it tried to turn without putting weight on its other leg and then a bellow of pain as Blake slashed at its good leg. Gann saw an opening and stabbed forward at the undefended chest as the Giant twisted to glare at the new threat. His spear sank deep and into the Giant's heart.

"Go help your lady!" Gann snapped as he twisted and pulled his spear back.

Blake's mouth opened in protest, but closed again as he realised how stupid it would be to object to being told to do what he wanted to do. He hurried on towards where several Giant voices were bellowing curses and where, between those bellows, he could hear Neeshka's voice taunting them back. Jogging around a clump of bushes Blake's lips narrowed as he saw the cluster of Giants. They all seemed to trying to kick or stamp on one target and although the taunting from near their feet showed they had not connected this still angered Blake. As with gifts it was the thought that counted and the Giants' thought had been to mob a single target no larger than one of their thighs.

Whether it was the crudeness of the tactics or the fact these were aimed at the Tiefling he loved the rage in Blake's voice made the incantation to release a spell of _Firebrand_ come out more like a berserker howl. Thankfully Mystra and other gods of magic cared little for the emotion as long as the words of power were clearly said or, with the extra power to avoid needing to voice them, clearly thought. Flame streaked away from Blake to split into individual balls that slammed into Frost Giant bodies and, in a couple of cases, faces as they turned in reaction to the war cry.

Flesh that preferred extreme cold blistered and burned under the impacts and the Giants staggered as Blake continued his charge. Although his opponents were much larger the power his belt of strength granted him compensated for their extra muscle and his hand-and-a-half sword would at least have been a shortsword for a Giant. This blade with this strength stabbed forward and through the side and back of one Giant's knee. The leg bent as the tendons were severed and the Giant fell backwards and into his fellows. Taking advantage of this Neeshka darted through the opening in the circle and deftly sliced the tip of her slender rapier across the Giant's throat to finish him before he could recover from the fall.

"I heard a scream," Blake growled, as the Giants spread out to try to surround him as well as Neeshka.

"That one objected to 'things becoming shiny'," replied Neeshka, gesturing and giving her harbour boy a reassuring smile.

Blake nodded as he glanced at the corpse and confirmed what he had suspected about where Neeshka had stabbed. It looked also that she had managed to hit one of the major blood vessels that passed through the groin to feed the leg muscles and that Giants bled out as fast as anyone else did if those were severed. Looking around Blake saw one Frost Giant who was gesturing and shouting and who by this attempt at leadership as much as by the crown on his head was apparently the chief. Not being inclined to let their enemies become organised Blake summoned some more arcane power.

The face beneath the crown became a mass of flame as Blake sent a _Fireball_ into it. Eyes became blind, tongue and throat were seared as fire entered the mouth that had been open in mid command, beard and hair caught alight, and the Frost Giant staggered back, dropping his weapon as he grabbed at his face. This had likely put him out of the fight but Blake stepped forward. Whether this was to make sure of the kill or whether it was mercy inspired by the noises coming from the Giant's ruined mouth and throat he was not sure but Blake stabbed up and under the Giant's ribcage to finish him.

Behind him Neeshka sidestepped another clumsy attack from a Frost Giant and drew the tip of her rapier across his thigh. The magically sharp blade sliced deep, the Giant's sturdy flesh presenting very little resistance, and a spray of blood speckled the increasingly trampled snow. Roaring in pain and anger the Frost Giant turned and swung out again, his snarls redoubling as the little-female-bug that had refused to stand still and be stomped continued to refuse this. A slight smile came to Neeshka's face as she continued dodging and taunting the Giant.

Heavy footsteps and the crackling of underbrush being trodden underfoot or pushed aside heralded the approach of Okku. His eyes were glowing in full battle rage and even with his spirit form having no physical substance for dirt to cling to his muzzle had still become bloody. For a moment the Frost Giants seemed transfixed by the sight and then as Okku roared out his fury and this echoed across the Ashenwood the Giants broke. There was some perception that Giants must be able to move fast with their long legs, but just as Humans were not much faster than Halflings so were Giants not that much faster than either and none of them were faster than an enraged God-of-Bears.

Okku lunged and his teeth sank into the upper thigh and arse of his chosen victim. He twisted and tore as he used the muscles of his neck and his weight to drag his teeth through the Giant's flesh. The Giant fell and rolled over and over with his own momentum, crushing a few small bushes, and finding himself on his back with Okku springing again at him. Desperately the Frost Giant shoved his forearm into Okku's mouth and managed to grab a handful of Bear-God ear to try to hold Okku's head still and stop him wrenching his teeth back and forth. Okku snarled as they wrestled for a second or two and then, bracing himself with his front paws and against the Giant's own resistance, raked backwards with his rear paws. The claws of a bear of flesh worn down with its walking but Okku was a spirit and his claws remained sharp and driven by his great strength sliced into the Giant and disembowelled him.

Unable to run as fast as his ally Blake instead gathered his arcane power and uttered the incantation to cast a _Fireball_. Even as he did though his target reached the water's edge and suddenly thumped against the glowing air there like a bird hitting a window of almost pure transparent glass. The surprise of this did not disrupt Blake's spell and the _Fireball_ sprang into existence and streaked outwards and into the small of the Giant's back as he hammered at the barrier. Flames licked up the Giant's spine and deep into his cold flesh that was even more sensitive to flame than most creatures.

Blake cursed as he saw the Giant driven forward by the impact and against the near invisible wall. It looked like nothing evil could cross the barrier from either direction so they might have to exterminate the Giants rather than simply drive them off. At least as there seemed no females or young in this group this was both more acceptable and far safer. More acceptable because Blake disliked killing the defenceless. Safer because if those were not here then these Giants must be part of a larger tribe and that tribe might seek revenge if survivors had been able to pass the barrier and to reach them. The Frost Giant's convulsions ended and as he died he suddenly fell forward as he became just a corpse rather than a living thing with a capacity for moral judgement.

Seeing there was no escape another Frost Giant had turned on Gann who had managed to catch up, following the trail Okku had left, and was going about the bloody work with an expression of distaste. He'd not say he was a lover rather than a fighter, as that implied you could not have skills at both, but as good as he was at the latter he did prefer spending his time on the former. The Giant swung and left Gann an opening, Gann's spear flicked upwards and the edge of its head sliced across the front of the Frost Giant's neck. It was not a spectacular wound, neither the gut strewing of Okku nor the charred holes of Blake's fire, but it was sufficient.

Meanwhile there had been one Frost Giant who had not run when Okku had roared. He was determined that he would stomp the little-female-bug that had avoided being stomped by all of them and that had cut him and continued to taunt him. Too late the Giant noticed that he was feeling a little dizzy and noticed just how much blood of his was on the snow. He staggered; one hand going down to his thigh wound and coming back up to before his eyes covered in blood. As he looked at this and finally realised how heavily he had been bleeding with every attempt to stomp the little-female-bug his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed.

Blake stabbed a Frost Giant in the back. The Giant had been fairly successfully fending off the snarling form of Okku but that had taken all his attention and so even as heavy footed as Blake was he had managed to get behind him and reverse his sword in his hand for the overhead motion. It had been quite awkward and stabbing someone, even a Frost Giant, in the back was not the stuff of heroic sagas but Blake didn't care. As the Giant fell forward and he let this motion draw the Giant back off his sword what Blake did care about though was the mess they had made.

"This is not good," Blake commented, looking around, and feeling annoyed with himself as he realised he had just automatically flicked his sword to shake off some of the gore and sent another spray of blood across the snow.

"What isn't little one?" asked Okku, sniffing about and biting down on the back of the neck of a Frost Giant who was only dying rather than dead.

"It is rather messy," Gann commented for Blake, "though I don't see how it could have been avoided."

"Aye," agreed Blake reluctantly. "They'd not have negotiated, or not in good faith at least, and we had nothing to offer in exchange."

"And why should they have been rewarded for their attack?" rumbled Okku, annoyed with the idea of negotiations. "Besides the Telthor spirits here are of warriors and well used to the bloody nature of any victory."

Blake did not feel entirely convinced. Bushes had been crushed and uprooted, snow speckled with pools and patterns of blood, the waters around the island rendered slightly pink, and there seemed body parts everywhere. This did not seem much of a Sanctuary to him but, as Gann had said, there also did not seem much of an alternative to having fought and killed the Giants. Save of course fighting and being killed and that was something Blake preferred to avoid.

Recrossing the narrow strip of water to the depressed looking Telthor Blake approached him again. The Telthor glanced at Blake and then across the water at the Frost Giant corpses visible. "You have our thanks hunter," he said without much conviction.

Blake nodded and smiled and led the others away from the Telthor who showed no inclination to cross the water and begin clearing things up. Whether he was waiting for friends or just waiting for nature to rot the corpses away, regrow the bushes, and cover it all with a fresh layer of snow Blake did not know. When you were an ageless spirit you might have a different perspective on time and be willing to wait those years to avoid that work.

"That went well enough," Blake commented, trying to concentrate on the positive aspect that they had fought well. The Red Knight had blessed them with a plan and Tymorra had blessed them with skill and luck so that plan would work and she could bless them with victory.

"It is good to taste the thrill of battle once more," agreed Okku happily, "I had almost forgotten it sleeping in my barrow."

"So where too now?" Neeshka asked, less thrilled by having had to battle rather than it being enough to replace the spirit-essence.

"Gann, Okku… any thoughts? Would us separating help you feel the forest better to track down another of the troubles?"

"No need, little one," Okku replied. "Even with the stench of your curse in my nostrils I can still scent a foulness coming from the south."

"Old father-bear has it right, but the foulness," mused Gann, "it is like an echo, at its core an impression left by your curse."

Blake nodded. "So perhaps more residue left by previous spirit eaters?"

"That was my thought," Gann agreed.

Cautiously they headed south and towards the foulness. The Ashenwood became even quieter and more eerie as they moved and Okku's low rumbles of distaste for what he scented sounded even louder by comparison. Soon they began seeing trees that even to Blake's insensitive eyes looked subtly wrong. He was sure that the moss clinging to them was not an unusual shade, that this was a shade of moss-green, but somehow it looked like the green of decay. As they pressed on things became less subtle as vile green mists started to surround the trees and Blake was again reminded of how the King of Shadows had drained the life from Merdelain.

"These trees…" Okku rumbled, looking at their twisted leafless limbs, "no insect or common rot is to blame for this blight."

"I am no Druid, or even much of a farmer despite my upbringing, but aye…" replied Blake, with some concern.

"_That_ is one large Treant," Neeshka suddenly said, pointing.

Blake looked and, after some relief that it was lying down rather than approaching them with hostile intent, nodded in agreement. "That it is, and seems to be ill," he commented, "rather than twisted by the blight." They approached and as they did the Treant seemed to stir. Blake looked at how the vast form was lying and tried to choose a path that would let it see him without needing to move too much. It only seemed polite with how ill the Treant looked. Deciding on simplicity Blake nodded. "Greetings."

"Come no closer, little one," replied the Treant, gazing at Blake with its woody eyes. "This plague is a vile thing and I would not forgive myself if I gave it to you."

"You seem lucid, unlike the blighted creatures that attacked the garrison," Blake said before asking, "is what ails you the same?"

"The young can be impetuous," commented the Treant, "and this took them by surprise. I recognised the touch of this blight though and restrained myself until my illness was enough to restrain my movements."

"From where did you get this blight?"

"Get it? In the first place you mean? Oh it has been hundreds of years since I first felt its grip. A creature came through here of the nastiest sort. Seemed he wanted to consume this place, as if one creature could do such a thing. Well when it came time for him to consume me I turned out to be a bit more than he could absorb all at once. Left him vulnerable."

Blake nodded to Gann as Gann's thought was confirmed, that did sound like a previous spirit-eater. "What happened then?"

"I was lining up to crush him under my roots, but he'd left me weak, as though the sap had been let out of me," continued the Treant. "Dizzy as I was I couldn't see much of anything, much less crush it. But I did manage to fall on him and break his spine. Don't remember what happened after that but I think the Wood Man had sorted things out by the time I awoke. This dreadful pox was the legacy that foul thing left me. Good riddance to it I say."

"I thought this blight was a recent development…" Blake said with some puzzlement at the talk of centuries old events.

"This blight is, for months I lay on the forest floor, much as you see me now, but after that accursed creature left this place the forest began to rejuvenate as it always has. And with that the withering in my limbs reversed its course and my bark formed anew. It has been healthy for centuries. Several days ago though I caught a sudden relapse and scars that had long since healed reformed in an instant. Took over right where they left off."

Several days ago sounded an unwelcome coincidence to Blake, though if it was connected to his becoming cursed he did have to wonder why the Treant had not suffered similar relapses when other hosts became thus. Perhaps the Wood Man had shielded the Treant before but, being absent, could not this time. "How would I remove this blight from the forest?"

"Remove?" exclaimed the Treant. "Oh, I don't think anyone will be removing it. It's cursed, you see, and it's divinely protected."

"How do you know that?" Blake enquired with some scepticism.

"Some blights are from the land and some are from the Gods. It takes someone who's felt both to know the difference."

"That sounds like a tale, but one to be heard another time," Blake said. "Is there no way to remove the blight?"

"Doubtful, very doubtful," replied the Treant. "Most Gods who do this sort of work, Talona and the like, are not keen exempting anyone from it. Although were another God to take pity on the forest you might have some success there."

"There may be some hope," nodded Blake, "this blight seems connected to the spirit-eater curse, and that is very likely the work of Myrkul." The Treant didn't look to understand the implication so Blake continued, "And as Myrkul is dead he has less power to object."

"Ah," the Treant replied, not having been interested in which Gods had been slain by which but enlightened now. "If anyone would be sympathetic it would be Chauntea. She used to run wild through these lands in the beginning, before even the Ashenwood took shape. She might listen… but it would take a strong petition though. You would need to anoint yourself with a special mixture, one that stresses the dire need of the forest."

"I am no priest and in my home village we tended to honour Chauntea by living as good farmers rather than in rituals," Blake admitted. "What sort of mixture?"

"Ordinarily it would consist of acorns, leaves, and pure sacred water," the Treant replied, his voice musing. "But you will need to make a stronger case for Chauntea to undo the work of another God, even a dead one. If you were to mix two tainted items from the forest with the water then you should have her attention."

Blake nodded. "A Telthor mentioned a sacred pool on their island sanctuary north of here."

"That should be pure enough and, fortunately, I think one of my leaves would suffice as one of the tainted ingredients," continued the Treant. "Just about the only thing they are good for these days. I am not sure where you would find another corrupted ingredient, though I have heard there is a horrific blaze raging to the south of here. That may be a place to start."

"And then?" Blake asked. "Once I have these things?"

"Well, you'd simply need to mix them together to have what you need to anoint yourself," continued the Treant. "You would need to go to a spot that is favoured by the gods to petition her, I should think the Red Tree of Immil Vale would be an ideal location."

"It sounds so simple in theory," Blake nodded slowly, "let us hope I can be convincing."

"Farewell then little one, and good luck. Don't forget to take a few leaves, and no need to be gentle in plucking them."

He might have removed his gauntlets but Blake took the Treant enough at his word to leave them on despite this making his hands a little clumsier. Blake still managed to pluck fairly gently though. "Rest easy, I shall do my best," he said reassuringly.

The Treant did not reply, seeming to have slumped back into a daze, and Blake led the others a short distance away to where they could speak. Blake looked at the rather unpleasant looking leaves before putting them in a compartment of his packs and hoping they would not make too much of a mess. With a sigh he looked back at the huge Treant and shook his head.

"I was hoping we could avoid travelling to Immil Vale or to that great fire," Blake complained. "That Tymorra would smile with good fortune and the fire alone would not be enough to prevent the Wood Man's return, that we would not need to seek the Telthor-Witches' advice and spend yet more time travelling."

"You seem impatient," commented Gann.

"I seem as I am becoming," Blake admitted. "I have responsibilities back home, friends whose fate I wish to learn. I know that ending a centuries old curse is not swiftly done, but I do begrudge each day that passes."

Gann nodded slightly, "Be careful. Your dreams of home and former companions are strong, your sense of duty also, but be aware of the hunger within you. Second by second it grows and your urge to feed becomes stronger, enough I think to give anyone a sense of urgency."

"It does not let me relax," Blake agreed, "so the need to be doing something… anything… is always there. It is not just that but your advice is good."

"So what now?" asked Neeshka.

"If travel we must then we can only hope that Shaundakul speeds our way. I think fetch the water and then look around this section of forest," Blake mused, "see if there are unmentioned problems here before we depart."

It was not far back to the Telthor sanctuary and the presence of the blight seemed less oppressive now they knew the cause and had some idea of a possible cure. As they approached the island Blake saw some mounds in the snow he had not noticed while heading south. With mixed feelings he realised his eyes had been drawn to those mounds because there was a Wolf sniffing around them. It was good to see an animal that was not a ghost but where there was one Wolf there was a pack and with the lack of other living creatures the only source of meat in the area might be himself, Gann, and Neeshka.

Blake stopped suddenly and frowned. "Wait, that's a dog."

"So it is little one," Okku said, unsure what Blake's point was as it had been so easy to smell the scent of man on the beast.

Ignoring him Blake had started walking again, but towards the mounds. The dog looked at him at the clank of metal and with fear filled eyes and lowered tail skittered away. Blake felt a little insulted but kept on calmly approaching, trying to look non-threatening and realising as he got closer that the mounds were human corpses. They were covered with as much rot as they were snow but with how they had frozen it was hard to tell how long they had been there. Blake glanced again at the dog, whose attention had shifted to cautiously watching Okku, and thought he looked slightly gaunt so it could have been several days.

"Looks like this was a hunting party," Blake said, finding and examining a journal on one corpse. "They complain about the woods seeming unsettled."

"Aww," said Neeshka, crouching slightly to look smaller to the dog, "did your silly masters get themselves killed, did they puppy?"

The dog looked at Neeshka, conveying the impression that he was trying to decide both if this was a nice lady and if she was insane. He was a big strong hunting dog so he didn't need to be baby-talked like some pampered lapdog and he wasn't a puppy. There was also something wrong about the way this lady smelled, even if she looked nice she smelt of something not-nice. His tail lowered itself even more firmly between his rear legs and a low whining growl came from his throat.

Neeshka turned to Blake with a rueful smile, which he returned with sympathy. Dogs did sometimes need a little time to get used to Neeshka though, once they decided to make friends, they were always very happy with the result. Blake straightened and slowly moved towards the dog as he reached into his belt pouch for a piece of jerky, but to his surprise the dog reacted with even more fear than it had to Neeshka. He was fully armoured but there seemed more to this.

"Your curse little one," Okku rumbled gently, seeing Blake's confusion. "This beast also smells its foulness on you and stronger even than the air of the lower planes that surrounds your mate."

"Okku," said Blake, watching the dog try to watch all three at once, the gigantic bear, the part-Infernal, and the man who smelled even worse, "can you… well, can you… speak 'dog'?"

"If you mean can I bark and yelp and roll and show my belly, then no," Okku replied. "If you mean can I communicate with the creature, then yes."

Blake nodded and watched as Gann reached into his own pouch to break off a piece of jerky and after showing it to the dog lobbed it gently in his direction. The dog jumped and retreated a little but came back and after some cautious sniffs chomped down and then turned soulful eyes on Gann for more. Gann smiled encouragingly and threw the rest of the piece of jerky, which this time the dog snapped out of the air rather than even let it land. The dog looked happier, his tail coming out a little from between his rear legs, but then he felt Okku's eyes on him and as their gazes met the dog suddenly froze in place.

"The animal is confused," Okku rumbled as softly as a Bear-God could, "it can scent the wrongness the absence of the Wood Man has caused but does not have the ability to understand this. Ah, its masters that lie dead there were cruel, they abused it and so its fear of the woods mixes with fear of man. Fortunately as fearful as it is of us the Hagspawn's scent neither smells wrong nor completely like its masters'."

"Does he know how his masters died?" asked Blake, considering kicking the corpses. "They seem to have been mangled more than would be fatal but also seem to have not been eaten at all. Which shows what a good loyal dog this is despite them being unworthy of that."

"Images, memories almost swept away by fear," Okku replied, "there is little to be learned other than a feeling that it was the forest itself that killed them rather than any creature within it. The mind of this animal is not complex and holds little but instinct. It holds few answers."

"Might have held enough," commented Blake, "this gash looks like it could have been inflicted by a Treant finger. If Nadaj is right that the Ashenwood is rejecting their garrison then it would seem it is also rejecting visitors. We have even more reason to be cautious."

Okku nodded and released the dog from their communion. The dog shook his head and gave Okku a puzzled reproachful look, he was not sure what just happened but it had interfered with the nice man throwing him tasty things. Gann saw this and made a little coaxing noise to draw the dogs attention back to him before throwing another piece of jerky and managing to almost get the dogs tail to wag.

Seeing this Neeshka gave a smile as she finished looting the corpses. "Powerful light crossbow here," she commented to Blake as she stood and checked it. "Makes its own bolts and looks like these 'hunters' didn't much care how much was left of what they were hunting."

"One to keep then," Blake said absently, his mind still on the dog. There was not much food around but it seemed it would take too long to gain the dog's trust. The effect of this curse seemed stronger than his ability to coax it into becoming friends. Hopefully hunger would drive it to roam and find the garrison and the Berserkers would be friendly to it. Reluctantly Blake started walking again.

They had not gone far before the dog went back to sniffing at the corpses. Blake paused and glanced back, wondering if Torm was continuing to bless that dog with loyalty or if the jerky from Gann had whetted the animal's appetite and it was considering the source of food. Neeshka looked ahead of them and saw that the Telthor Warrior was still lingering on the near side of the water. She wondered as Blake caught up if he was tempted to emulate his foster-father Daeghun's sense of etiquette and simply get the water rather than ask permission. As she had reminded him on a few occasions though good manners cost nothing and being polite could make it easier to slip in the blade if you needed to.

"You have returned, hunter," the Telthor said simply, glancing again at Blake.

"We need to take some water from your sacred pool," Blake replied, "this is to help us beseech Chauntea to aid the blighted area of the Ashenwood south of here."

"Take what you wish," replied the Telthor, his voice making Blake wonder if he was grateful or simply apathetic.

"Thank you," Blake nodded, leading the others across to the Island and down the Okku trampled path towards where Neeshka had found the tree stump.

As Neeshka filled a bottle with the pure sacred water Blake looked around. The corpses had grown no less repulsive for the brief absence and the stillness of the island still grated on Blake's nerves. Something about this bothered him but it hovered on the edge of his thoughts until that very analogy helped him realise. Hovering. Flight. There were no birds here. His one major battle might have been against Undead who had burst into flame and denied the scavengers their feast but he had seen Orc corpses when retracing paths near Old Owl Well. He had heard the horror stories of old soldiers about those left wounded on the field and unable to move as the crows hopped closer and closer to peck at eyes and tongue. Here though there had been no flapping and no indignant caws of protest. Blake shook his head as he realised the dog was the only living animal he had seen in these woods and he was not sure if he had seen any wild animals since he was brought to this spirit-saturated land.

"All done," Neeshka said, breaking into her harbour-boy's musing.

Blake smiled to his sweetheart and got a brilliant smile in return that lifted his heart. Being surrounded by death was becoming too much of a habit. He was glad that his life had taken this course as if it had not then Tymorra and Sune would never have blessed him with the luck to meet her and the love they shared. Sometimes though he missed the simple days of semi-friendly brawling with the Mossfields and being worried about chores rather than ancient evils and curses. Crossing the water again they headed down the path towards the south.

"Gann, Okku," asked Blake as they walked, "will the spirits be able to guide us to the fire?"

"Some will have been driven away by it," Gann replied, "and they will have complained to those spirits they met, and those spirits will have complained to other spirits about having had to listen to complaints. I expect like ripples in a pool, or gossip in a village, we will find some sign before too long."

"And failing that little-one my nose is keen," rumbled Okku, "and the scent of smoke distinctive." He paused and sniffed, "As is the smell of blood of man…"

"Ah," Gann commented, "and what men would be in these woods? The missing Berserkers perhaps?"

"That I cannot tell," murmured Okku.

"I thought your nose was keen old-king-bear," Gann teased, "perhaps the dust of sleep still blocks it."

"Keen enough to tell whoever is wounded does not share your taste for effete perfumes, spawn-of-hags," Okku growled.

"Lead the way," Blake said, ignoring the by-play and checking his sword was still free in its scabbard.

With a grumble Okku did and a short walk later, though long enough Blake was impressed Okku had caught the scent, they came within sight of a confrontation. A man in leathers and furs was glaring at a deadly looking bald woman who seemed distinctively unimpressed by his attempt to intimidate her. This could be simple arrogance but despite the advantage the man had in size and strength Blake would not have bet on him if, or as was more likely when, this came to blows.

"Ah, it seems we have found a missing Berserker," Gann commented, "and he has a friend, or a foe."

"Both I think," replied Blake, pointing, "look there in the snow."

"By all the gods," the Berserker protested ahead of them as he also looked at the bloody figure lying there, "what have you done to him?"

"Be at ease, simple Berserker. It wasn't by my hands that your comrade's blood was spilt," replied the woman patronisingly before adding with a note of regret. "No, I arrived too late for that." The Berserker frowned as the woman continued. "A ten-day of praying to Malar for a path to power led me here. In my visions I saw Rashemi Berserkers astray in the Ashenwood and thus they became my prey. Unfortunately, the trail ended here with this dying Berserker. I am not sure how this happened to him, but it matters not. My job has been made that much easier."

"I see through your lies, dark hunter," the Berserker grumbled, "and you will pay for what you have done to Grigarii."

"Believe what you will," replied the woman dismissively. "Malar will savour the dying screams of you both while I slowly flay the skin from your body, prolonging your demise to sate his bloodlust…"

The woman's eyes widened as she looked past the Berserker and noticed Blake and more impressively the huge and colourful form of Okku at his shoulder. For a moment some fear entered her eyes before it was driven out by the desire for the hunt and visions of the glory hunting such prey as a Bear-God would bring. The Berserker glanced over his shoulder and his expression changed from dull rage to one of satisfaction that judgement had arrived for this woman.

"Please God-of-Bears," the Berserker said respectfully, "I beg your help against this woman who would hunt without respect for honour or the land."

"You have it," growled Okku.

"A fine hunt this will be," the woman said, a rather mad smile coming to her face as her excitement built.

She gestured and two huge cats appeared and flung themselves at Okku without the fear any sensible creatures would have for this foe. However sense was not something that Beasts of Malar were known for. The red markings that resembled blood sprayed across their black coats far better suited their nature of bloodlust and aggression. Unfortunately for them, although he did not lust for blood, Okku did regard their attack as an impertinence to be crushed rather than something to be feared. He snarled and sprang forward to meet their charge, huge jaws opening in readiness but closing on nothing as one cat twisted away to avoid them and the other twisted in to bite at Okku's shoulder. Feline teeth sank into spirit flesh and locked together as the cat tried to slow Okku like a Lion on a herd beast so the other could close in and clamp down on the throat. The bald woman's smile broadened as the beasts of her god worked together, but then her smile froze.

Blake had been a few steps behind Okku as he was not so eager to meet the cats, and especially not while moving. He would have preferred to stand and brace himself to use the length of his sword and Gann's spear to advantage. Now though he had caught up and brought his hand-and-a-half sword down from slightly above his head and onto the Beast of Malar clinging to Okku's shoulder. Putting some of his weight into the blow Blake drove the magically enhanced metal of the blade on and through the cat in a long chopping motion that sliced through spine and waist and almost cut it in two.

Jaws relaxed in death and the cat thudded to the forest floor, freeing Okku of its weight and letting him turn as the other sprang back in heedless of the other's fate. One massive paw swung and Okku bowled it back tail over head. Blood from the claw wounds drenched the animal's fur and rather than showing bright red like its markings it instead turned the black fur a damper darker black as it tumbled to a stop. By contrast the deeper wounds that had been inflicted on Okku's shoulder were already almost gone as his spirit flesh shimmered and reformed.

Blake tried to ignore the yowling and crunching as Okku pounced forward to finish his smaller opponent and instead to concentrate on the woman. There was not much to concentrate on though as the Berserker took full advantage of the woman's distraction to fulfil his promise to make her pay. The woman's speed was impressive but as she dodged a spear-thrust from Gann and an axe-swing from the Berserker she failed to completely avoid a rapier-thrust from Neeshka. With Malar's bloodlust filling her the wound barely affected her but this was enough to let the Berserker land a blow that as much smashed as sliced her skull.

"The monster is dead," said the Berserker, stating the obvious as he looked at the nearly headless corpse, "thank you for your help."

"Who are you," Blake asked, "and what just happened here?"

"I am Yurkov. My fallen brother is Grigarii," the Berserker replied simply. "We both hail from the Lake of Tears garrison. We were searching for another group from our encampment that has been lost for days. I went scouting ahead, but when I returned, everyone was gone. Grigarii is the only one to have turned up."

"That is bad news," Blake agreed, wondering what could have killed a group of Berserkers without a scout hearing it, "but at least your friend is still alive and you can return to report to Nadaj. Or Dalenka I suppose."

"You are right he is alive, but he won't be for long," said Yurkov, looking at Grigarii. "These wounds are severe and I think he is close to passing."

"They are not so severe they could not be bandaged," Blake protested mildly, "and he looks strong enough to perhaps recover."

"I think Grigarii would prefer to be left alone," replied Yurkov calmly. "He fought valiantly and died in defence of his homeland. A death can serve no greater purpose, and when a Rashemi dies in this way his spirit may remain as a Telthor, a guardian of the land. For Grigarii, as for me, it is a chance worth taking if the death is right for it."

Blake looked at Yurkov a moment. It made sense in a way that surviving rather than dying a suitable death was a risk. There was the chance you might then be killed in a less suitable manner and have missed the opportunity. It also made sense though to remain alive and continue in service and as a guardian to your country as a living man rather than a ghost. This was not Blake's choice however.

"I will respect your wishes then, and hope your friend achieves this fate."

Yurkov nodded, relaxing the arm that had tensed in case the ignorant foreigner had tried to force healing on Grigarii and deny him the cherished fate. "Grigarii has passed, I should leave and find the others. Farewell and thank you."

Blake watched as the Berserker bounded off and towards the Garrison. As Yurkov passed out of sight Blake cursed. "Damn, I should have asked him to keep an eye out for that dog, either on his journey or if it came to their garrison." Blake turned to the others. "Still, I think there is little more we can learn here."

"Let us be about it, little one," rumbled Okku, his spirit form looking more pristine by the moment as it shed the gore. "You need answers."

South they moved and into more trackless forest. Snow like this was not something either Blake or Neeshka were used to, the former because people simply didn't tend to travel through Merdelain in the winter and the latter because she was more a city girl and, as the name suggested, Neverwinter rarely suffered the ravages of cold too greatly. Gann too seemed not completely at ease as he preferred roads and the company of people, especially female people, to deep forest. However with Okku to guide them and break trail they managed, moving where snow was shallow rather than drifted deep, allowing the stamina of a god-of-bears to carve a path where this was not possible, and ever heading south and following Okku's nose and the chatter of the spirits.

Night began to fall and after carving out and trampling into hardness a nook in a snow bank Okku had the joy of watching the creatures of flesh lie around some more while he acted as windbreak and guard. If anything was stupid enough to approach them during that night Blake never knew as he slept soundly with Neeshka snuggled against him under their shared sleeping furs. Gann was less fortunate and slept less well without someone to share body warmth with until Okku had pity and channelled some of the power of the spirits into the Hagspawn as he slept. The spirits had nurtured Gann as a baby and now they nurtured him again through this cold night.

The next day even the noses of those with two legs began to be able to smell the great fire. As they entered a clearing Blake took the opportunity of being able to see the sky to look south and frowned as he saw that the sky ahead was a little dim with smoke. "Forest fires, I have heard, can be tricky," Blake said, looking to Okku and Gann. "Winds or hills make them burn one way and then another so they surround you…"

"Do not fret little one," Okku rumbled, "My oath to end this curse will not be spoiled by such as that."

Blake looked at Okku a moment longer and then nodded. Even with immunity to fire being led into the middle of a forest blaze could be fatal. Fires and people seemed to need the same air, where one would not burn the other would die and both drowned in water. Okku was not that devious though and unlike someone like Ammon Jerro seemed disinclined to kill bystanders in pursuit of his aims. Pushing on the smell of smoke became more intense and they all began to keep a cautious eye out for the orange of flames. Instead though they found the forest becoming brighter with daylight. Blake tapped one finger cautiously on a blackened tree's trunk and looked up at its bare branches and around at the charred remains of the undergrowth. Then he looked back at where this burning had abruptly ended and where trees still had even their smallest most easily burned off twigs.

"I sense a great conflict," Gann winced slightly as he felt the currents around them. "The Ashenwood lives and resists this fire, holds back the flames and sacrifices some trees to be burnt out and form a barrier, but the flames also live and try to find new ways to cross this barrier. There is turmoil ahead."

"If turmoil is ahead," said Blake slowly, "then that might be where we will need the 'tainted ingredient' for the mixture from."

"As charred as that tree is," Gann agreed, "it was charred protecting the rest of the woods, not tainted by whatever is causing the fire."

Even more cautiously than before they continued on and past the burned twisted forms that had been living trees. Soot blackened what snow had fallen since the fire had passed and melted that already on the ground and charred wood crunched under their feet. It was near as unpleasant as the volcanic slopes of Mount Galardyrm but at least here there were no Fire Giants. Finally there seemed a flicker of firelight and they knew they might be nearing the source.

Blake frowned in puzzlement as they approached the fire. Flames were playing around this entire grove of trees and around the centre of it. They did not seem to be consuming the wood though. The trees just seemed to be the centre of flames without being the fuel for them. It was like a Gnomish lamp he had once seen where flammable airs were fed through a pipe and a mantle of non-burning mesh glowed in that flame. A tap on his shoulder broke into these thoughts though.

Neeshka smiled at Blake when he looked at her and handed him her cloak. Crossing to the nearest flaming tree she turned back to face Blake and happily began toasting her rear and tail. "Aaaah. Warmth!" she purred as her tail wiggled with contentment.

"I thought you were just as impervious to cold as you are to fire," Blake smiled as he enjoyed the sight of his darling enjoying the flames. Sune had blessed her with beauty and in the light of the flames she made a picture any painter would have felt blessed by Deneir to capture.

"Doesn't mean I like it as much," replied Neeshka with a wink, "and after tramping through this snowy forest I definitely don't."

"This blaze is unnatural," Okku said, uninterested in their mating rituals, "we must do something to put it out!"

"Agreed," nodded Blake, reluctantly dragging his mind back to business, "it seems to be centred over there."

Neeshka glanced in that direction and her expression of bliss changed to a startled one. "Are those a couple of eyes watching me?"

"How could any creature of fire resist the sight of you enjoying his flames?" Gann teased.

"Or any creature," murmured Blake to himself.

"Suddenly I think I'll stick to a more normal fire," Neeshka decided, returning to her harbour-boy and reclaiming her cloak, "or a nice hot bath."

"And she does mean hot," commented Blake before approaching the eyes. There seemed to be a shape within the fire, some flames that were a barely different colour and flickered and moved slightly differently, and there were two spots of brightness that could be eyes. "Greetings there," Blake said cordially.

"Felt your presence, felt your birth, felt it loose my bonds," the thing replied in a singsong tone. "The time approaches, the time approaches, the time approaches."

"You… felt my birth?" Blake repeated, puzzled.

"Was bound in a red place, a place of fire, only heat, only scorching," came the reply. "Then a disturbance, a cool breeze, he is awakened, he is awakened."

Blake glanced at the others who seemed happy to let him continue speaking. "What are you?"

"Was a man, now a form. Was a soul, now a shape. Shape of Fire, Shape of Fire, Shape of Fire."

"Hrm," Blake said, reminded of how the King of Shadows had become a shape of magic or how Okku was now a shape of spirit. He frowned as he remembered something else the thing had said, "You say the time approaches, the time for what?"

"Scorching vengeance, burning wood, dying forest," almost sang the Shape of Fire in satisfaction. "His end is near, his end is near, his end is near. Forest spirit, forest essence, met him once now will again. He'll pay at last, burn the grove, burn the spirit, burn the jailer. Draw him out, smoke him out, draw him out."

"Draw who out?" Blake pressed. "What or what do you mean by the jailer?"

"I suspect it refers to the Wood Man," commented Gann.

The eyes seemed to flash within the Shape of Fire's face. "Sent me from here, sent me from life, sent me to burn," it hissed. "Undying pain, undying heat, undying pain. Helped many to find him, all was well. Helped you to find him, earned his wrath. He hated you, he feared you. He hated you, he feared you."

"I see…" said Blake with some puzzlement.

"It may be speaking of another spirit-eater that it guided," Gann clarified, "to its eyes you are merely another vessel that contains the same hunger."

"Same grove, and you return," agreed the Shape of Fire. "Weakened him once, now have again. You are the key. You are the key. You are the key."

"He is weakened too much," Blake replied, "I need to speak with the Wood Man and while your fires burn he is unable to return."

"Will not stop," the Shape of Fire chanted. "Burning brings him, makes him pay, makes him remember. I have suffered, I have suffered, I have suffered."

"Burning does not bring him," Blake repeated, "burning makes him not able to be brought as he cannot return. Stop the flames and he might appear."

"No," protested the Shape of Fire. "Burn the Grove, make him pay, draw him out, I have suffered, I have suffered."

Blake paused a moment as he tried to decide whether he could reason with this thing as demented as it, and then decided he could not. "My sympathies," Blake replied firmly, "but I shall put out these flames whether you cooperate or not."

"A wise decision, little one," Okku rumbled, less sympathetic than Blake, "this monstrosity must be extinguished."

"Fires will burn. Fires will burn. Shape of Fire, burn the grove," said the Shape of Fire, its flames managing to give an impression of stubbornness, "relight the fires, see it burn. Burn the grove, make him pay."

"If you try to relight those fires I extinguish I shall stop you," Blake told it, "and slay you if you persist in that."

"Am only half in this plane," the Shape of Fire pointed out mockingly. "Half here, half not. No reason to fight, no reason to be exposed. Common enemy, common purpose, your strength my strength. Will not fight you, will not fight you, will not fight you… just set the fires, make him pay, burn the grove."

With that the Shape of Fire began to retreat back to playing amongst his flames. Blake looked at it and then swung his arm in a long backhand arc. There was a clunk as the metal protecting his knuckles clipped the trunk of a burning tree. The Shape of Fire turned back to Blake and sneered as much as a mass of flame could.

"Punch the tree, cannot punch me," jeered the Shape of Fire, "cannot fight, fires will burn, burn the grove, make him pay."

Blake glowered at the Shape of Fire, ignoring Okku's noise of dissatisfaction that they did not simply charge and put the statement to the test, until the Shape of Fire, still cackling, retreated again. Casually Blake bent and picked up the piece of burnt bark that had come loose with his blow and led the others away and out of what was probably the Shape of Fire's easy earshot.

"This should be tainted enough an ingredient for the anointment," Blake commented, showing them the bark.

"Why have we not destroyed this thing?" Okku complained.

"Because he is likely right that we cannot strike him," Blake replied, before adding to Neeshka, "can I have the Sanctuary water please dear, no… can you unstopper it and hold it please?"

Neeshka held out the bottle of water and Blake began to break off small pieces of charred bark and crumble them between his fingers into the bottle. Gann watched this for a moment as the crystal clarity of the water began to grow dark and murky with soot.

"There are invocations, both divine and arcane," Gann said as Blake continued, "that channel great cold. We should be able to not only put out his fires but coat the burned-out trees in thick layers of ice."

"True, but that may not be enough," mused Blake, crumbling the last of the bark. "If he speaks true and he does exist half on another plane and that is, as it looks, some plane of fire then he has those inexhaustible flames to channel and reverse that."

"So, as you said, we will need to slay it to prevent that," Okku growled, "I do not see the problem."

"The problem is how to slay it," Blake pointed out before reaching into a pouch and beginning to tear tiny strips off the leaves from the great Treant and popping them down the bottle's neck.

Neeshka glanced at Okku and then decided to point out what seemed obvious to her. "If he's a spirit can't you just… you know…?"

"Hrmph!" Okku complained, glaring at Neeshka, as she'd expected, for the suggestion.

Blake looked firmly at Okku and met the glare with his own determination, "It may come to that, if we can find no other way to extinguish him." Yellow bear-god eyes and blue-grey human eyes locked until Okku gave a fractional nod and satisfied with that Blake conceded, "We shall look for that other way first though."

"As we seem to be heading for Immil Vale," said Gann, gesturing at the increasingly unpleasant looking concoction, "perhaps the Othlors would have some insight?"

"I hope so," Blake replied, using a whole leaf to push bark soot and pieces of leaf down the neck of bottle from where they had clung to the damp, "we would need to break this thing's connection to the fire plane or overwhelm him before that could replenish his strength. Maybe I should have brought that Orglash."

Blake took the bottle from Neeshka, taking the opportunity to caress her hands as he did, and sealed it again. He managed to give it several vigorous shakes before Okku spoke. The bear-god's mighty brows drew down in another frown as he looked at Blake.

"Orglash?" Okku asked, suspicious. "Do you mean the one that woke me and that I sentenced?"

"He does," replied Neeshka with a brilliant smile.

"It offered to serve me in return for taking it from your barrow," Blake amplified, not looking pleased at the colour of the concoction in the bottle as he checked the seal and placed it in a pack. "I left it there as I was still hoping to avoid a fight."

Okku rumbled, pleased that his justice had not been superseded. "If we are to travel to Immil Vale then I suggest we travel straight there."

"Nadaj said it was not far by boat," Blake said reasonably.

"Yes little one, but we _will_ be coming back here whether the Othlors can help or not," Okku replied with determination. "Better to follow the path and walk to Immil Vale. Better that than to return to the Lake of Tears to use that cramped floating thing, float to Immil Vale, float back to the Lake of Tears from there, and then have to walk to here and back again."

"That does sound shorter," Blake nodded, "though we are not as tireless as you, my friend, so travelling further with some of it being on a 'cramped floating thing' rather than our feet does have some advantage."

"Hrm, perhaps," admitted Okku, "but trust my sense of the paths."

"I do, so, please, lead the way and let us hope the Othlors are more helpful than our experience of Witches suggests."

"That hope and a coin will get you a mug of beer," Neeshka snorted.

Okku looked puzzled so the first part of their journey was brightened by Neeshka's happy explanation and as each of them tried to come up with a better, or at least a new, 'what' and 'what' would be worth 'what.' The main problem for Okku in contributing though was the idea of _implying_ something was worthless, by two things combined being only worth the same as a third thing that was only worth the same as one of them alone, rather than simply _saying_ that it was worthless. That sort of subtlety was something he would have disdained even when he was still a bear of flesh rather than spirit but if the conversation helped the mortals in their walk by amusing them then it was worthwhile.


	8. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The journey was, as Okku said, not that long but as they moved from the river and higher into the mountains Blake began to wonder if this had been the right decision. At least though there were caves and Shaundakul blessed their explorations enough they managed to find some that were even empty and could be used for rest rather than Okku scenting bears or other dangerous beasts within. It was only a few days though of steady travel and a few nights of Okku having to tolerate the need of the creatures of flesh for sleep and for campfires that required time to find wood for.

He also had to tolerate the delay one morning of Blake indulging in some target practice to assess the light crossbow they had found on the hunter's body. The holes its bolts of pure sound smashed in a few outcrops of rock when Blake was able to compensate for its vibration showed why Neeshka had commented about the hunters not caring about the state of the corpse. They'd likely been trophy hunters as exploding half a deer would be an instant kill but would also be a waste of good meat if you wanted more than the head.

Finally they reached the short pass that led down into the Vale and Okku glanced at Blake and suddenly grumbled as he saw the mortal's breath misting in the air. "My apologies little one," he said, annoyed with himself, "I considered how you would grow weary with the climb, unlike me, but not that flesh needs to breathe and that the air would become thin and cold on this direct route."

"Better thin and cold than thick and sulphurous," Blake replied, "and has not been too bad."

"Not _too_ bad, no," added Gann, with a theatrical stretch of his back.

Blake shaded his eyes against the sunlight leaking in under the side of the brim of his hat and peered down the path. "I think I can see green, and of a more verdant shade than we have been passing through."

"Immil Vale is notably lush," Gann commented, "which is what makes it worthy of the attentions of the Othlor and why that great Treant said it was favoured by your gods."

"Aye," replied Blake as he started down the zigzagging path, "to see living greenery in such a wintry land is still a pleasant surprise though."

"And there, those boiling bubbling pools…" Gann enquired, with interest, "would those be warm enough for our Tiefling's bathing needs?"

"You'll never know," smiled Neeshka.

A matching smile creased Blake's beard as he continued ahead and more greenery became visible beneath them on the valley floor. "Path leads down, and that tree at the end of it has autumnal leaves, perhaps the Red Tree as its leaves are that colour."

"That would seem the sort of thing that would cause the Witches to choose a name like that," nodded Gann. "Imagination is not the strong suit of Witches."

"Really?" Blake replied, raising one eyebrow. "Was not the impression I got from what you said to your warder back at the Mulsantir prison."

"Ah, let me correct myself," chuckled Gann, "imagination in naming things, no. Imagination in other way, perhaps."

More comment was prevented as a screeching assailed their eardrums and a Wyvern hurled itself from the cliffs above them. Its wings sent dust billowing into the air as it landed with a thud. Blake, being in the lead, had to fling himself back to avoid the snap of the Wyvern's jaws where he had been that moment before. The Wyvern twisted and pulled its wings into its sides as its scorpion like tail whipped out at the off balance Blake. Reflexes took over and though he did not have time to unsling his shield Blake's sword had hissed from his scabbard and he parried.

Enchanted metal met the stinger and split it open, slicing away the barb and freeing blood and venom from the wound. The Wyvern screeched again but this time in pain rather than in an attempt to startle its prey into stillness. Blake staggered a little as the impact kept him off balance but Gann was there and stabbing his spear at the Wyvern's eyes and open mouth. Okku's roar was overlaid with another screech as a second Wyvern plummeted down and landed behind them, but immediately had to almost take off again in springing and flapping away from the claws of a bear-god's swing.

"These seem over-ambitious little one," Okku growled, showing teeth larger than the Wyvern's to it, "if they seek to take _us_ as prey."

"They might have young to feed," commented Neeshka, her rapier darting out and barely missing the eye as it opened a wound on the first and slightly larger Wyvern's cheek. "I saw eggs in the Wyvern nests near the Wizard Academy in Thay."

"Then those young will become orphaned," Okku snarled.

As the Wyvern seemed distracted by the cut on its cheek Blake stepped forward to take advantage and brought his sword down to strike at where the Wyvern's neck and wing met each other and its body. The Wyvern turned slightly which threw off Blake's aim a little, making the blow only a glancing one, and as its blood seeped from the shallow cut the Wyvern whipped its tail in again. Unfortunately for the beast in that reflexive attack it had forgotten how wounded its stinger had been. Even if the barb had been intact it would not have penetrated the relatively thick Mithril of Blake's shoulder guard. As it was the impact did nothing but mash the Wyvern's stinger even more, smearing blood and venom across Blake's pauldron, and staggering him a single step sideways with the impact. Neeshka easily avoided her harbour-boy's clumsy regaining of his balance and stabbed at the Wyvern's other eye which it had exposed to her in turning.

Gann had seen that the narrowness of the path gave him a problem as to where to help. Down the slope Blake needed room to swing that overly large sword of his and the graceful Neeshka needed room to dodge. On the other hand old father bear was broad enough that he almost filled the width of the path upslope so there was not much room for a shaman there either. With some doubts Gann decided that as spirits aided him he would aid them however little a god-of-bears required such. The second Wyvern was hissing and snapping at Okku as Gann thrust his spear out with at it.

The Wyvern almost failed to notice Gann so much of its attention was, naturally, on the huge multi-coloured spirit bear growling back at it. Even so the angle was not good for Gann, having to stab in from the side around Okku, and the Wyvern's hopping and flapping meant he only got it in the wing. Gann's spearhead tore through and great feathers and pieces of feathers fluttered from the wing, but not much blood and not enough feather to hamper the wing much. This did get the Wyvern's attention though and distract it enough for Okku to rake out with one huge paw at its throat. A bloody chunk of Wyvern flesh tore free but though the wound was broad and long it was not very deep and to Okku's frustration his claws did not seem to have ripped through anything vital. The Wyvern did seem staggered a moment by the pain but then its anger overcame that reaction and it returned to the attack.

Neeshka had missed the eye, again, but had opened a wound on the Wyvern's cheek to match the one on the other side. The pain in its head and shoulder and tail seemed to be driving the Wyvern deeper into a frenzy and Neeshka tried to take advantage of this. Her rapier thrusts and twitches became less compact; she flourished her sword in broader arcs to let the light glint off it and try to keep the Wyvern's attention with these broader motions. Blake prowled forward a little, keeping his own movement as slow and controlled as he could until he unwound into a sudden strike. He was nowhere near as fast as Neeshka as, even with enhanced strength, his hand-and-a-half sword took time to get moving but the Wyvern still had to hurry to dodge the blow.

The Wyvern reared up, wings flapping to keep its balance, as Blake's sword licked out at where its head would have been. Blake's thrust failed to strike the Wyvern just behind the jaw and wasted itself on empty air but even as he was pulling his sword back Neeshka moved in. Her strike was more precise and the enchanted metal of her rapier cut deep into the underside of the Wyvern's neck that it had shown her in rearing up. Blood gushed from the wound and the sheer quantity showed she had struck a major vein. As encouraging as that was for Blake and Neeshka it did not seem to have discouraged the Wyvern much. Maybe because it had not realised how badly it was wounded as the wound was so precise and the rapier blade so sharp. Maybe because it had realised but was determined to take them with it. Either way the Wyvern came back down and started snapping at Blake with enough determination to drive him a few steps back up the slope.

Gann meanwhile was still stabbing at the other Wyvern and wondering how long it would be before Okku tore it apart. As the Wyvern hissed at him again Gann saw a chance and thrust forward into the rather unpleasant smelling breath and at the open mouth. The Wyvern's jaws clacked shut and its teeth met on the spear shaft. For a moment Gann was able to push his spear forward before these teeth caught and he found it trapped. There was a tiny amount of give as he tried pushing and pulling but then the Wyvern started shaking its head and Gann became more concerned with keeping hold of his spear and keeping his feet.

Okku rumbled as he saw the Hagspawn again being shaken around by an enemy's greater strength. Memories of how he had dragged Gann around during the battle outside Mulsantir came back to Okku's mind as he padded slightly forward and towards the cliff face. Then he brought a paw down and onto the rear of the Wyvern's head. Its teeth scraped down the spear shaft as it was driven forward and even the part of the impact that scraping transmitted was enough that Gann's boots dug furrows in the soil of the path as he was driven backwards. A slight gleam of metal appeared on the back of the Wyvern's head as the tip of Gann's spear came out of there.

Giving Okku a rather dubious look Gann scrambled away from the edge of the path and tugged at his spear. This seemed firmly wedged though even when Gann, cautiously, placed a foot on the dead Wyvern's nose to brace himself and pull even harder. Okku rumbled again in amusement and turned to watch how the others were doing and if they had finished yet.

The Wyvern downslope was getting slower and weaker as the blood loss began to tell on it and its hissing and snapping were both fading away. Neeshka had managed to inflict a few more cuts that were keeping its attention and as it turned its head to try a feeble snap at her Blake struck. The edge of his sword sliced into the side of the Wyvern's face and split its skull, the backhand blow cutting across the browridge and eye and shattering the cheek and lower jaw. It cut deep enough that Blake's sword caught for a moment as the Wyvern began to tumble off the side of the path. Blake was stubborn though and kept hold of his sword, planting his feet to resist being dragged with the Wyvern and having the good fortune to have an attentive Tiefling who, with a sigh, grabbed his arm and braced him further. As the Wyvern pulled itself off his sword and began rolling in a jumble of wings and legs and tail and neck down the slope Blake smiled to Neeshka in thanks.

"This greenery reminded me of a valley made lush by a Crystal Dragon's heart," Blake commented as he started up the short distance towards where Gann was still pulling at his spear. "No Wyverns, but there were a pair of Black Dragons that objected to us freeing the Crystal Dragon's spirit from its prison of deathlessness."

"That. Would. Be. The. Nolaloth. You. Mentioned?" Gann asked, interspersing each word with another tug at his spear. "Maybe. Tell. Story. Another. Time."

"Aye," Blake nodded, wiping his sword on one of the Wyvern's wings to get rid of most of the gore before wiping it cleaner with a cloth and scabbarding it. Drawing out his dagger he began stabbing at the rear of the Wyvern's head around where he could see the spearhead point. As Blake stabbed and cut and Gann tugged the spear came closer to being freed. Blake paused as he was reminded of times he had aided in butchering animals. "I wonder what Wyvern tastes like."

"Terrible," Okku replied simply, looking pleased he had not needed to bite either one.

"A shame," shrugged Blake, enlarging the hole around Gann's spearhead. "We'd be camping near here so would not be far to carry a haunch to cook tonight."

There was a rather displeasing sucking noise and Gann nearly fell on his arse as his spear came free. There was an expression of distaste on his face though it was not clear if this was over the noise, the undignified staggering, or the idea of eating Wyvern. Blake wiped off his dagger while Gann did the same to his spear and then they continued down the path. Even with Immil Vale probably having a denser population it seemed unlikely there would be any more Wyverns with how large animals needed large hunting territories and tended to defend them against intruders but they kept a careful eye out anyway.

Fairly soon they reached the bottom of the path and Blake was reaching into his packs for the concoction. Suddenly two forms swirled into existence, startling Blake and Neeshka more than Gann and Okku as the latter had an instant's warning from their sensitivity to spirits. For a moment Blake looked at the two ghostly women, his hand still in his pack and Neeshka relaxing her hand away from where it had gone to her sword hilt, before one of the Telthors decided to speak.

"We would have a word with you, cursed one," said the spirit, her choice of address not filling Blake with hope.

"Come forward," the other added, "let us look upon you."

Slowly withdrawing his hand from his pack Blake took a half step towards them, his curse twitching in appeal to be unleashed as it sensed the possible meal. "You would be the Witches Nadaj mentioned," Blake asked, certain of the answer, "the ones that remained as Telthors to continue your work?"

"Quite," one replied. "I am Imsha and this is Tamlith. In life we were Othlor, the pinnacle of our order. But the higher one's rank, the higher their duty." Blake nodded at this. "A day came when we realises ours exceeded our own lifetimes. But our prayers were heard and the gods permitted us to stay as Telthors."

"A blessing to be sure, to die with obligations undischarged is to be avoided," Blake agreed. "I do have questions for you, but first… what was it you required that you appeared and addressed me?"

"To put a face to a feeling," said Tamlith. "Your hunger is like a vortex amidst the flow of spiritual energy. We feel its pull from a vast distance, but the threat of that hunger cannot be known without seeing what countenance it wears."

"I thank you for reserving judgement until you saw that," Blake replied politely before asking, "does this mean you have encountered other spirit-eaters?"

"Only a handful, yet _far_ too many," sighed Tamlith, her tone conveying that even one was too many. "Always drawn to Rashemen, it seems, like any beast that catches the scent of fresh prey. Inevitably they follow it to Ashenwood where the aroma is strongest. Makes them likely to pass this way, either coming or going."

"I was directed to the Ashenwood for advice, and found the forest in turmoil and the Wood Man unable to manifest," Blake responded. "If you can share what you know of the past hosts it would be appreciated. Your… living… colleagues have been mostly unhelpful."

"Is that _truly_ a surprise?" asked Imsha.

"Only in as much as the more I know of this curse the better I can control it, and the more likely it is that Okku's oath to end it can be fulfilled."

"Well, many of the spirit-eaters meet their fates in the Ashenwood," supplied Imsha, some caution in her tone as control of the curse did not necessarily mean control to use it wisely. "It is a wild place, and it has a sense of self-preservation all of its own. But they have done damage there, wounded the forest like no one else can. They have brought sickness and upset its natural balance."

"Don't forget the one with the guide," Tamlith added. "You remember Imsha, he'd hired that tracker to take him into the heart of the forest so he could live off the soul of the Wood Man himself."

"I think I may have met that tracker," mused Blake.

"That seems unlikely," Imsha contradicted him. "The Wood Man considered it a betrayal for the tracker to lead a spirit-eater to him…anyone who wanders the forest freely does so only with the Wood Man's trust. Couldn't tell you for sure what became of him, but the rumour was that he'd been imprisoned indefinitely on another plane, and not one of the nice ones."

"A Plane of Fire actually. We encountered a being of flames, he was burning trees and said this was in revenge against the Wood Man for having sent him into undying fire to suffer undying pain."

"I _take_ it he no longer burns?" Tamlith asked.

"No, he does," admitted Blake. "The only sure way we had to fight him was for me to unleash this curse and devour him."

"Ah, well I hope that you find another solution, or choose to accept the unwelcome solution, before too much more of the forest is lost."

"Indeed," replied Blake, "his flames seemed contained by the sacrifice of trees that had burnt out as a barrier, but I will do what I need to whether he is still contained by that or not."

"Do you have other questions?" Imsha asked.

"Yes," nodded Blake. "You mentioned spirit-eaters have brought sickness to the Ashenwood. One such sickness has recurred, a huge Treant lies sick with a relapse and the forest around him blighted. The Treant advised me to travel to your Red Tree here to beseech Chauntea to aid with this blight."

"It must be some blight to travel all this way," Imsha marvelled, "but he has steered you correctly. Our tree is strongly attuned to the spiritual and the divine. It is a conduit of sorts, words spoke at its base may reach ears across the planes, that is if you have their attention."

"Then I shall have to hope I do."

"Have you an anointment?" asked Imsha.

"Yes, I have gathered and mixed the ingredients as instructed, and that was what I was reaching for when you appeared."

"Then simply anoint yourself and touch the trunk of the Red Tree and beg the favour," instructed Imsha.

"Know that the gods listen only to those that are respectful and whose plight they deem worthy of their attention," Tamlith added. "They have no time for trifling matters or rude petitioners."

"Indeed," frowned Blake at the unnecessary warning. "Well, this matter does seem serious and I shall be polite. I'd not wish to offend Chauntea even were I not already suffering a divinely inflicted curse."

Blake took his hat off, frowning as he noticed the stain of Wyvern fluid on it, and handed it to Neeshka. He then took off his gauntlets and, after also handing those over, reached back into his pack. The contents of the bottle had become even more unappealing for the time in his pack and even with what was at stake Blake hesitated before pouring some into his cupped hand and then smearing that across his forehead. After another moment he poured and smeared a second dose and then poured a third lot into his hand so it was damp with it.

Reaching out to the trunk of the Red Tree Blake found words coming into his mind but whether that was inspiration or divine inspiration he was not sure. "Chauntea, Great Mother of the land, divine warden of all that grows," Blake recited, "know that the Ashenwood is stricken with a powerful blight. Grant me your blessing, I plead, that I might reverse the damage it has wrought."

Warmth flooded Blake and he felt the sensation of his boots on the ground fade as if he was floating or weightless. Was this what it was to be a ghost or a spirit with no physical form? The hunger receded away and the pressure of it on his mind dwindled as for a moment something had mercy and granted him that moment of succour. The timeless instant ended though and the world returned and with it the weight of both his body and his curse pressed back onto Blake. He was still standing with one hand pressed against a great tree with red leaves and being watched with concern by Neeshka.

Blake smiled at Neeshka, almost as overwhelmed by how much he loved her as he had been by communing with Chauntea. He had forgotten how much this curse hurt until the pain was removed for that moment, but with Neeshka's love and support he _knew_ he would defeat this even if he had to tear out a God's throat with his teeth. Nothing was going to stop him as if he failed and died from this then Neeshka would grieve and he was not going to let anything make her that unhappy.

"Blake?" asked Neeshka, worried by the expression on her harbour-boy's face. He had frozen a moment and for that moment had looked almost as blissful as he did when she was in his arms and their sweat was still drying on their naked bodies. Now though he was looking at her with a rather overconfident smile.

"I felt relief from this curse for a moment," Blake replied simply, before glancing down at what was in the hand by his side, "and it seems this prayer was answered."

"That does look a lot nicer," Neeshka commented.

"Aye," agreed Blake, "and though I might have anticipated Chauntea transmuting the anointment into the cure I'd not expected her to alter the bottle as well."

"You are to be praised though, to be so blessed by Chauntea," Tamlith agreed. "May the blight soon be ended."

Blake nodded and put the rather beautiful crystal bottle carefully away. Imsha caught his eye. "You said questions, is there more you wish to ask?"

"There is trouble at your garrison on the Lake of Tears," replied Blake, "the forest is attacking it and they do not know why. An Ethran called Nadaj suggested you might have some insight."

"Hmm, if that is true," Imsha mused, "then it would not be the Wood Man's doing. He and the Hathrans have an accord."

"The creatures were blighted so it could be that the mercy of Chauntea in giving this cure will solve the problem," nodded Blake, "if the attacks were feverish flailing rather than something more deliberate."

"You do not sound convinced," Tamlith commented.

"No," admitted Blake, "Nadaj did think there was purpose behind them, that there was the intent to drive them out. So if there is intent there must be a mind, and if not the Wood Man then who?"

"How to put this simply?" Imsha mused. "The Wood Man is an embodiment of the spirit of Ashenwood but he is not all there is to it. Those woods are primal. They have instincts. If the Wood Man is absent then who knows what other aspect might rise up to fill the void?"

"That makes sense," replied Blake, "and if so then Nadaj was right in thinking we were not at cross-purposes. If I can help the Wood Man return then I will be able to speak with him and he will be able to control those other aspects and the garrison will be secure again."

"Was there anything else?" Tamlith asked.

"What is that gigantic rock over there?" enquired Gann. "It is hard to sense over our leader's… presence… but I can feel the pull of it on my waking dreams."

"The Mosstone it's called," Imsha replied dismissively. Gann smiled slightly at this proof of the lack of imagination of witches in naming things. He should have known, it was a stone with moss on it so what else would they call it. "Nothing special about the rock itself, but it is said that those who sleep in its shade experience fanciful dreams. Prophetic some claim. Very few take interest in it, save the odd pilgrim or tourist who comes this way. But some swear by it and return often."

"I do not blame them. It is a shame, honoured spirits, that you no longer sleep or you would have been able to feel the truth of those tales," said Gann politely before turning to Blake. "I suggest that before we leave we rest in the shadow of that rock. My own powers of dreamwalking are not inconsiderable and with them to focus the effects of that rock we may gain fresh insight."

"Hrmm," Blake murmured, half-turning so he could see Gann as well as the Telthors.

"You seem dubious," frowned Gann.

"Your actions and advice have earned a great measure of trust," Blake reassured him, waving one hand and realising it was still bare. "I do though still remember the words of the Witch-Warden and your reply to her. You seemed proud of the fact you left footprints in others minds and that those would never vanish."

"I may have… overstated… the case in my arguing with her," admitted Gann. "All experiences leave their mark on those that experience them and my entering a dream or shaping it is no different. I admit to having used my abilities to amuse myself, but never with malice."

"We shall see what dreams come then," Blake nodded, "but first we need to decide what to do about that burning tracker, which was another reason for coming here."

"Ah, we might have some thoughts on that," Tamlith volunteered as Blake turned to fully face her again. "Each year a Bheur, an icy hag, comes and brings winter to this land and each year she is driven away. This year though the snow and ice have lingered past when they should have melted, so we wonder if this is because the hag has also lingered. A creature of winter ice might have insight into how to counter one of eternal fire."

"If I find this hag what do you wish done to her?" asked Blake, taking his gauntlets back from Neeshka and putting them on. "If she is lingering then she may not be willing to be simply driven off as before."

"This valley is an oasis of warmth and life in these bleak mountains," Imsha said firmly, "we will not permit it to become frozen to accommodate one hag. If she will not leave then we ask that she die."

"Very well," replied Blake, looking at his hat and after rubbing at the stain putting it away rather than on. "The advice you have given me may well have helped save my life and I repay my debts, return aid for aid and courtesy for courtesy."

As Blake fumbled with the carrying straps of his shield, not wishing to be caught without it again, Neeshka muttered something under her breath. Tamlith and Imsha glanced at each other before Tamlith spoke. "What was that _child_?"

Neeshka looked Tamlith in the eye, unintimidated by the tone. "I _said_ it was fortunate for some of you Witches that he doesn't do the reverse."

"Their… stupidity… was annoying," Blake admitted, buckling on his shield. "But it would have been wrong to repay their more helpful colleagues by returning the hostility of the less helpful. The insults to me seem to weigh heavier on Neeshka's shoulders than on mine."

"Hah!" Neeshka exclaimed. "What did you do to those thugs in Neverwinter that called me goat-girl?"

"I slaughtered them without mercy," frowned Blake. "What's your point darling?"

"I think you just made it," Neeshka smiled.

Blake looked at his sweetheart with a baffled expression. Insults to Neeshka were important so of course he had responded to them. The connection between this and her not wanting to tolerate insults to him eluded Blake but after a moment more he gave up thinking about it. "Anyway, we should investigate for this Bheur. It was a pleasure speaking to you Madame, and you Madame," he nodded to Tamlith and then Imsha, "and a pleasant surprise you have been so helpful despite, being spirits yourselves, being so directly threatened by my curse."

"We are less threatened than you may think," Imsha replied, "after all we are still here despite you not being the first spirit-eater we have encountered, but I thank you for the kind words."

Bidding the Othlors farewell it was only a short distance across the valley floor before they began to see signs of the Bheur, a still melting puddle there, a leaf or some grass killed by cold here. The Bheur did seem to have tried to not travel in a completely straight line but, though there were a few places where it was useful to have a god-of-bears rumble and pad onwards on the scent, the trail seemed clear. In some ways it seemed too clear and Blake hesitated as they came within sight of a mine and saw the iron rails and mine carts and stream outside it all covered in ice.

"They said the ice and snow had lingered," Blake commented, "but I thought it would be over a wide enough area the hag would be hard to locate."

"Trap?" asked Neeshka. "Or just lazy searchers?"

"Could be either," Blake mused, "let us enter this mine, but with great caution. Something peculiar seems to be going on. It seems strange that after finding the hag each year to drive her away that this year they are missing such obvious clues. Unless those clues were not missed. Perhaps they found the hag has become more powerful so this year they couldn't drive her off."

"Like I said harbour-boy," Neeshka smiled, "lazy searchers or maybe a trap."

"They seemed friendly," protested Gann mildly, "and if nothing else they'd not want to prevent us dealing with the fiery tracker or returning the cure to the blight."

"Hrmm," Okku grumbled, "compared with a spirit-eater those problems might be considered minor if you have not seen their effects. I do agree with the Hagspawn though that the Othlor appeared sincere."

Blake nodded. "Sometimes the Red Knight lets you see hidden plans. Sometimes things are as simple as they appear and those plans are only in your own mind. We should still be cautious though."

Okku rumbled at that repeated suggestion as caution was not something that came naturally to a bear and especially not a bear-god but Neeshka looked happy. Her experience had been that the sweeter the smile the sharper the blade so she was glad Blake was not going to go blundering in trustingly. Having drawn his sword and drawn up his chainmail hood, donned his helmet, and made a few spells in preparation to join those requests to the spirits Gann was making Blake very carefully made his way across the ice and into the mine entrance. Whether the chills down his spine were warnings from his instincts or simple cold he was not sure. This just seemed something that, like the troubles in the Ashenwood, the Witches should have dealt with.

"Even in my form I can feel this cold, little one," rumbled Okku as they moved further inside, "though not see my breath since I no longer breathe."

"I hope this does not get too much colder," Blake replied, flexing his fingers to keep the blood flowing through them.

"I hope it does," disagreed Gann.

"What?" Neeshka protested, pausing a moment to glare at him. "Do you want the tip of my tail to freeze or something?"

"I would not wish such a fate," Gann said smoothly, deciding not to add a compliment, "but the colder it gets the more powerful this Bheur must be, and so the more likely we would gain something of use against that burning tracker and his flames."

Neeshka did not look entirely mollified but before she could speak Blake asked, "So what can we know about this hag?"

"There are many of my kind, my mother's kind," supplied Gann. "They are as numerous in hue and power as the elements and their disposition as varied as the emotions and rages of a human mind. The one within… I suspect her spirit lies upon the cold edge of ice and a heart of winter beats within her chest. That is a dangerous thing indeed and so anything that shields us against a winter's chill would help us in the battle to come, if we choose to fight."

"It is not so much if _we_ choose to fight," Blake corrected, "as if _she_ chooses to fight rather than depart. I have no personal quarrel with her."

"We may be able to persuade her," nodded Gann. "As you may have noticed from my own… tendencies… we hags, even half-hags, are a talkative people. It is a form of self-flattery to go on about oneself, no matter what the subject. If we can steer her prattle and flatter her sufficiently then she may be amenable."

"I think you more suited to flattery than me," Blake admitted, "I try to be polite but tend to express my honest opinion rather than sweeten it."

"So I have noticed," replied Gann, "though I also notice your honesty means you tend to not sour it either."

"So be it, you take the lead in any conversation this hag is willing to offer," Blake decided.

As they came around the corner and approached the room at the end of that mine tunnel the cold seemed to reach its worst rather than increase any further. The swirling forms of Orglash passed back and forth through the part of the room they could see through the doorway. Gann glanced at the others and then with some reluctance on his face clipped the strap back to his spear and slung it across his back. Placing a practised smile on his face and opening his hands in a gesture of friendly greeting Gann entered the room. The hag whirled from the bench of alchemy equipment she had been working with.

"Visitors? But you didn't send a messenger to let me know," the Bheur complained, peering about. "This place is a sty! Human remains everywhere. If only I'd had a bit of notice. And look at this thing I'm wearing. Hideous! It's impolite, you know, dropping in on an old woman unannounced. How can I possibly be expected to look halfway decent?"

"Give her a centuries warning," Neeshka muttered to Blake, "and she'd not manage that. Or even manage an eighth-way."

Blake nodded to Neeshka and tried to keep his face impassive as Gann replied. "Honoured Bheur, I bring news that the Witches by the Red Tree out there are looking for you and seek to force you to leave."

"Which is why I am hiding", grumbled the Bheur, making it clear this was not news to her. "Those two loathsome banshees are too well connected. If they find me here every Hathran between here and Thay will be on my doorstep. Probably unannounced like someone else I know."

"Our apologies for the intrusion," Gann said, bowing slightly as he did, "but is there some reason why this year you have remained?"

"Well, it isn't for this ghastly landscape, I'll say that much," the Bheur snapped, looking pleased to have someone to rant to. "I don't understand how anyone can stand such a detestable climate for more than a few seconds without fleeing for a nice snowy peak or glacier somewhere."

"Those would seem far more pleasant for you," sympathised Gann, "your reason for tolerating the climate this year must be very important for it to be worth your time and discomfort."

"Every year the Hathrans drive me out of their lands," the Bheur frowned. "Even celebrate it, the monsters. This time I got it in my head to stick around a little longer, show them what they get for picking on an innocent old woman."

"A… fitting lesson for them to learn," Gann replied, his skills at diplomacy being tested, "though with the clues to your presence they could soon repeat that unfairness."

"Kick an elderly woman while she's down, why don't you?" the Bheur snapped, the anger of past years soaking her voice. "Your mother would be so ashamed to see you carrying on this way."

"Do _not_ speak of my mother," Gann snarled back, taking the hag almost as much by surprise as he did Blake and Neeshka and Okku. "She abandoned me to the Wilds of Rashemen so her opinion means nothing to me."

"Huh, you were lucky," the Bheur replied, "In my day we used to eat our young for such insolence rather than simply leave them alive."

"Lucky?" Gann hissed incredulously, one hand going to unsling his spear.

"Wait," interrupted Blake quickly, stepping forward. "I am sure no offence was intended on either part. My friend merely meant that if they seek to find you then they might succeed in this."

"Hmph, is that so?" sniffed the Bheur, still peevish. "Bah, you're right though. Its more heat than I can bear, and it's still too little to cover my tracks. Froze the ground before I could duck into this place."

"It does seem you have a problem," Blake replied, "though perhaps we can aid one another. We seek information on how to defeat a being of fire…"

"So that's it then, is it? Of course it is," interrupted the Bheur, going into another rant. "You've come here because you want something from me. Couldn't possibly come calling because you just wanted to visit with me. Oh no, 'I don't care why you're here, or how lonely you are, or how long it's been since you've eaten someone. I just want to use you.' Typical."

Blake glanced at the Orglashes closing in slightly in response to their bond with their icy mistress and sighed. "Should I take that as a no?"

"Oh, so like your generation," grumbled the Bheur as Blake ignored the hint to sympathise with her. "No patience with your elders. Always rattling your swords with a Wyrm's sense of entitlement. I will not tolerate such disrespect…"

Without warning Blake stabbed his sword forward and into the Bheur's gut. As he had done previously with the armoured undead Blake brought his shield-arm hand onto his sword's hilt, heaved upwards, and lifted the hag on the edge of his blade. The difference was that, even without armour, she weighed a little more and in contrast to the unbleeding silence of the Undead a bubbling cry and blood came from her mouth. Blake twisted his sword and tilted it to dump the Bheur off it and onto the table. There was nothing pretty or heroic about this, just killing an old woman-creature before she could use her powerful magic.

The Orglashes swirled and their cold spewed across Blake and the others, cutting deep into the protective magics but not deep enough. Blake released his shield-arm hand's grip and swung his sword one-handed down and to the side. The blade did not meet much resistance as it passed through the Orglash's form, the hag blood that still coated it freezing in that instant, but this blow did seem to hurt the Orglash as its swirling became much slower and fainter. Then the frozen blood of the hag melted and burned away as Blake muttered an invocation of _Blades of Fire_ to make his sword burning hot.

Gann had taken the moment to step back and unsling his spear. As the Bheur began sliding off the table onto the floor he stabbed a quick flicking blow into her throat. "So much for gaining information," he commented.

"Just fight, Hagspawn," Okku growled, whirling on an unfortunate Orglash and pouncing.

Massive jaws snapped through the Orglash's form and then Okku's great paws were wafting through it like a man waving away smoke from his attempt at cooking. Like that smoke the Orglash came apart and dissipated into invisible nothingness. Neeshka was not as strong and her rapier did not tear such broad swathes through the Orglash that had drawn her attentions but as she flurried her blows through it tiny pieces were floating away like embers from fire and it noticeably shrank.

Blake muttered another invocation and a ball of fire formed and then split as the _Firebrand_ sought out their foes. One ball curved down and struck almost at Blake's feet as the magic sensed that despite her wounds the hag was still holding onto life. The scent of burning flesh joined the equally unpleasant one of ruptured bowels. Other fireballs plunged into the Orglashes who for a moment looked more like Fire Elementals as flames smeared away from the balls and blended with their swirling forms. The two Orglashes Blake and Neeshka had wounded vanished as the flames faded, their animating spirits unable to keep them intact under this extra assault.

Gann stabbed his spear in again and rather than withdraw it left it plunged into the Orglash and let its own swirling draw the spearhead through it. Blake swung his sword in and against the same foe, magical heat and cold warring, and this Orglash also dissipated. Okku continued to disdain subtlety as he pounced on and tore another apart into inanimate shreds that faded away. Deprived of a different target by this Neeshka plunged her rapier down and through one eye into the Bheur's brain. The hag had survived being stabbed in the guts and throat so Neeshka was not taking the chance that she had also survived the _Firebrand_.

Blake smiled in thanks to Neeshka as she withdrew her sword and stepped back from the corpse. Then he looked at his sword and tentatively brought his cleaning cloth to it. The magic already on the blade did not react when he cleaned it but he was not sure if this rarely used spell was as well behaved in that regard as the Druid prayer of _Flame Weapon_ Elanee used to cast. To Blake's relief his cloth, and his hand, did not catch fire as he wiped off his sword so he could scabbard it and his scabbard also did not start to smoulder and burn.

Neeshka was efficiently examining the chests and containers along the walls so Blake turned his attention to the lab bench. Ignoring the smeared puddle of hag fluid on the tabletop and the burned and mutilated body beside it Blake sorted through what the late Bheur had been working on. He was not an expert Alchemist but he knew enough to recognise that this had been some sort of distillation.

"Ah," Blake nodded, feeling better about the corpse at his feet, "she was experimenting on her own Orglash servants. Looks like she induced or forced them to condense down into their compact form and then…" Blake gestured at the mortar-and-pestle and the dust still within it.

"She ground talking creatures into powder?" Gann asked. "That is just bizarre."

Blake nodded again and picked up the mortar-and-pestle. Then he sprinkled a little of the dust from it onto the pool of blood and fluids around the hag. Where the dust and the liquid met ice formed instantly and Blake nodded again as he placed the mortar-and-pestle back on the bench and examined a jar that seemed full of the same dust. "Bizarre, but very cold," he commented, picking up the jar, "and if anything can be considered as a poison against fire this might."

"At least her work was not entirely wasted then," Gann said, somewhat disapproving of Blake taking that.

"True," Blake agreed calmly, "and they would be no _less_ dead if we left their remains here rather than use them to help save the Ashenwood."

Gann inclined his head to concede the point and since Neeshka had finished her search they left the mine. Outside the warmth of Immil Vale, freed of the hags influence, had already noticeably eroded the ice and returned the scene towards spring. Whether this was any more natural for a valley in these mountains than the cold the Bheur had brought was something Blake was not sure. The volcanic pools seemed to suggest the warmth was not entirely magical though and he did prefer it to the cold inside the mine or that they had travelled through to reach here.

While Blake pondered this and removed his helmet Gann hopped nimbly across the stepping-stones in the now unfrozen stream. Blake lowered his chainmail hood and scratched his neck, having to be gentle as the jointed metal protecting the back of his fingers gave him, in effect, sharp fingernails where it overhung. He was very careful as he followed as though the stones were less slippery without ice that also meant falling would be a lot wetter. Gann paused and looked back as Blake made his laborious way, as Neeshka walked the stones with the ease other people had for walking broad flat floors, and Okku just waded the stream and looked grumpy at the lack of salmon.

"I suggest we head more that way," Gann pointed.

"The Mosstone?" asked Blake.

"Indeed. I felt its pull increase as we travelled nearer it on our way here but, as I said to the Othlor, your curse muddies my sense of the spirits. It seems worth a small diversion to ensure it would be worth returning to it."

"Aye," nodded Blake.

Gann hesitated to see if Blake was going to say anything more, any comment on the distance or on the idea of dreamwalking, but Blake just waited. Smiling to himself at the contrast with his own loquacious nature Gann started down the short slope from the mine entrance to the valley floor and towards the Mosstone. There were noises from around them as they travelled but each time Okku rumbled in his chest those noises retreated as if something had thought better of stalking them. Soon they were at the Mosstone and Gann was gazing up at it and at the weathered runes that had been carved into it.

"Ah, look at this," breathed Gann, examining how the runes flowed and drawing insight from his link to the spirits and to dreams. "Perhaps a marker, perhaps a fragment of dream left behind, this stone is a signpost."

"A signpost to what?" Blake called from where he was standing a short distance away.

Gann chuckled. "Your presence does not muddy my senses that much, and that distance diminishes the effect hardly at all, but I thank you."

"Hrm," Blake replied, walking closer, "a signpost to what?"

"Why, truth of course. A greater understanding of oneself," said Gann. "Beneath its shadow we may find that our dreams are sharpened like a blade and ring more true than steel. In such places as these dreams are strong. As long as one rides the current and does not fight it we may find ourselves at our intended destination."

"That seems rather random," Blake complained.

"Life can be such," smiled Gann. "I know your skill in the arcane comes from systematic study but intuition has its place. If everything was logical then would you be here now with us?"

"Maybe not," Blake admitted, not noticing how the sparkle in Neeshka's eyes had dimmed a little at Gann's comment and his agreeing with it.

Neeshka knew how much Blake loved her and she knew her fears were, at least in part, the legacy of the years of being taunted as 'Demon girl' and all the lectures over her Infernal blood the priests that raised her had given. She also knew that logically Blake's best choice for marriage would be some nobleman's daughter. Someone that could make his children born to the nobility rather than part Tiefling. Someone that could give him influential relatives by marriage rather than relatives that were either Infernal or who had abandoned their daughter to the care of priests. Someone that could give him entrance to polite society rather than being a reason to disbar him this.

Of course, Neeshka decided as one corner of her mouth quirked into a smile, there was a problem with that logic as they had embarrassed a large number of the Noble families of Neverwinter by discovering their children engaged in necromancy. Despite his present wealth and power and fame it would have been difficult for Blake to find a Noble wife with his peasant birth. There might have been a Noble family desperate enough to ignore this in favour of trying to rebuild their family's vanished fortunes but finding one that was not related to the embarrassed families and who would be willing to risk making an enemy of those families would make this even harder.

"So, what does your intuition say?" Blake asked, his moment of thought having been rather calmer than Neeshka's worrying.

"Swimming in one's own dreams often reveals many secrets and your curse has many secrets to reveal," replied Gann. "We have learned much as we travel the physical world so perhaps the dreaming world may also bring insight. If we rest close to the stone then the dreams will come, and in force. Of course this may all be old wives' tales…but I think old wives were young truthful women once so perhaps this would be a place to camp for a time and see what lies behind our eyes, no?"

Blake glanced at the sky and around at the valley that was darkening as the sun set behind the mountains. "We seem to have time to report our meeting the hag first, then we can return to set up camp and confirm that your instincts and the tales are true."

Gann nodded and Blake began walking. The valley floor filled with shadow even as the sun still brightened the upper slopes and Blake wondered if he had overestimated how long they had. There was the slight glow from Okku though and that was enough to show them their footing without ruining their night vision like a torch or spell of _Light_ would have done. As they came within sight of the Red Tree again Blake was relieved to see a pair of faint glows and that the Othlors had remained manifest rather than releasing their forms to return to wherever Telthors went.

"Do you linger here with a purpose?" asked Tamlith as she caught sight of Blake.

"You asked me to investigate if there was sign of the Bheur," Blake replied, pointing out his purpose was one they had given him. "There was."

"Indeed," replied Imsha. "What of her?"

"Okku's keen nose followed her trail to where we could see the entrance to the mine on the other side of the valley," Blake replied, giving credit to Okku, and ignoring the bear-god's mild rumble of protest that the trail had been so obvious. "This was surrounded by snow and ice and, as expected, we found the Bheur within. We spoke with her but she felt I was not sufficiently respectful. So we fought and she died."

"See, I told you, Imsha," nodded Tamlith slightly triumphantly. "They should have checked the Vremyonni mines."

"You _made_ your point Tamlith," replied Imsha, a little peevish. "As for you spirit eater, it is good to know that you are not entirely above serving causes besides your hunger. In thanks, and in hopes that you continue that path, we offer this cloak."

"Thank you Madame," Blake politely replied as he accepted the cloak, keeping some feelings from his face. With a slightly strained smile of thanks he led the others away to speak in privacy and let Tamlith decide without an audience whether to continue saying 'I told you so' to Imsha. Being near-immortal spirits bound to the same tree probably gave many opportunities to get on each other's now immaterial nerves so Blake did not envy them. "Huh. I seem to have been damned with faint praise," Blake commented, "being 'not entirely above' and been given a bribe rather than being trusted to continue to do the right thing."

"The Witches starting to get to you harbour-boy?" asked Neeshka sympathetically.

"Yes," Blake replied flatly before adding. "But don't worry dear; I'm a long way from losing the ability to be diplomatic… however little they deserve my good manners or you not stabbing them."

"If they had to bribe you at least it's a nice cloak," said Neeshka, keeping her sense of practicality.

"There is that," Blake admitted, holding the cloak up to examine it. His sweetheart was right, this was a fine cloak and though the magic on it was not as useful to Blake as it might have been to some it was still a nice looking cloak.

Nice enough though that as the magic wasn't that useful and the unenchanted cloak he had bought from Shelvedar was just as effective at keeping off the rain and keeping out the cold there seemed no need to get it dirty. Not unless the weather turned nasty and one of them needed the extra warmth. Having stowed the cloak away it was only a short journey back to the Mosstone. It loomed above them, blotting out a portion of the now visible stars but almost seeming transparent as the moonlight picked out highlights on the rock and gave the illusion of those being stars being seen through it. This was an impressive enough sight that Blake found himself with some qualms.

"Here we are again," Gann said cheerfully, pleased of the opportunity to use his full skills rather than just stab things with a spear. "Let us relax and rest and see if dreams will take us."

"Break out the bedrolls," nodded Blake reluctantly, before adding in the tone of someone trying to find a bright side, "at least we don't have to set watches."

"An advantage, little one," Okku rumbled, "of you having an undying unsleeping bear-god at your side."

They needed no campfire as the valley was warm enough. To Blake's annoyance it was also warm enough that he and Neeshka did not _need_ to share body warmth and this let Gann smilingly request that they did not as he did not want the dream shaped by this into something he would prefer not to witness. Having removed the outer layers of his armour Blake settled himself down under his sleeping furs and as he lay there found sleep was not coming easily. Maybe it was the lack of having Neeshka snuggled in his arms, which was comforting even when they were both still wearing some chainmail. Maybe it was that he was still wearing some chainmail and was not tired enough to ignore this. Maybe it was the doubts he felt over sharing a dream with Gann. Blake sighed and firmly closed his eyes and tried counting breaths. In and out, in and out, in and out, and slowly Blake relaxed and sleep came to him.

Blake's eyes snapped open as he realised he was standing and could feel the weight of his full armour on him rather than just a chain shirt, the weight of his shield on his arm and his helmet on his head. Around him snow glittered with an unmarred whiteness that looked as if even the concept of it having been walked upon was impossible. This scene, this dreamscape, was even quieter than the Ashenwood had been. It was as if there were no living creatures, nothing to crawl or walk or fly or slither and intrude on the solitude of these eternal-seeming trees.

"We are in Ashenwood," Gann said, making Blake jump as the near perfect silence was broken, "a version of the woods that once were. Something is wrong here, be on your guard. It does look an interesting dream to explore, but we should be careful."

"I wonder if that Bheur mentioning snowy peaks and glaciers affected the setting," mused Blake, his voice hushed as it sounded strange in his ears in this stillness, "if that meant images of those were in our minds."

"I doubt it," Gann replied, his voice a more normal tone as he was more experienced with dreams and less affected by the strangeness. "This seems to come from deeper than surface thoughts or recent events."

"All right, let's move on," said Blake, making an effort to speak naturally. Then he gestured at himself and his full armour, "but, something in my mind seems to have decided I need to be ready for battle."

"A hint we should not ignore," Gann agreed, unslinging his spear as he cast an eye up and down Blake, before continuing. "Dreams can be malleable, within them you can be or do anything, but I think we should concentrate on a fixed reality. Both because that is harder for a foe to manipulate against us and because, even had you the experience to match a foe's manipulations of a shifting reality, we are here for answers for _you_."

Blake frowned and slowly nodded. "And if in the dream I am different then the answers would be for that dream-self? Rather than me?"

"That was my thought," Gann replied, "as is that since this is to be a fixed reality then what we can do awake we can do asleep."

For a moment Blake just looked at Gann and then, realising what he might mean, muttered an invocation. Whatever version of the Weave existed in a dream responded to this and Blake wasted a spell of _Identify_ as this was one of the few spells he had prepared to cast without gestures that was not an attack. One corner of Blake's mouth quirked beneath his beard and helmet.

"Useful, though I do wish I'd considered if magic would work in a dream," Blake mildly complained, "and now I am in the dream I do not seem to have the imagination to pretend I had prepared some spells so this armour would not interfere with them."

"What armour?" Gann asked.

"This…" Blake began, "what the Hells?"

Blake looked at his bare hands, at the arm where his tower shield had been, and one hand came up and encountered hair rather than helmet metal on the top of his head. He was wearing simple clothes though his rings were still on his fingers, his amulet round his neck, and his sword belt buckled on. Blake turned his gaze to Gann as this and his comment did not seem a coincidence.

"There is a common dream about realising you are without your trousers," Gann explained. "Even with a fixed reality that dream is strong enough to be channelled and mildly altered. I suggest you make your spells that I have noticed you do each morning before encasing yourself in the metal that makes you feel secure. Then to your surprise you might then realise you were wearing your trousers after all."

"At least you did leave me my trousers," chuckled Blake, "so I thank you for that part of the 'mildly altered'."

"Please," Gann protested, "if I had not then in this cold a 'something' might get frostbite. That would draw the wrath of your lady… and I have seen her wrath in the Sloop Inn and heard the result on that Sanctuary Island."

With a mock shudder at that thought Blake began his invocations and Gann his appeals to the spirits. Soon these were complete and, as Gann had said, Blake had the surprise of realising that between one breath and the next he was in armour again and that it felt like he had never not been. It was like where you knew you had been asleep as the shadows of the sun on the wall had shifted but did not remember falling asleep and then waking between one thought and the next.

Carefully they headed down the path and around the bend, pausing as they caught sight of the group of people the snowy bank had hidden. The feeling in Blake's mind that this dream of the Ashenwood contained no living creatures save the trees and plants did not diminish though even at this sight. These people looked to be alive and looked to be real, to be more than illusions or shadows, but somehow they felt less so than Gann.

"A Red Wizard," muttered Blake, checking his sword was free in its scabbard, "and guarded."

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Gann replied, as quietly, before reminding Blake. "She, and they, could be a symbol rather than a literal truth."

Despite the quietness of that exchange that seemed enough to draw the attention of one of the group. "Hsst!" she exclaimed, her hands moving into a posture Blake recognised as a spellcasting one. "Someone walks in our lady's garden…"

"Stay back!" challenged a male, turning with speed but without any sound that could be heard even in the unnatural silence. "We found her, she is ours! She is all we have, and you cannot take her away!"

"Hmm," Gann mused, "whether symbolic or not these four mean us harm. The prompting of your mind to be ready seems to have been apt."

An older man gestured to the others to keep back and took a few steps towards Blake and Gann. This as much as the confidence in his eyes suggested he was the leader of this group. "How did you find your way to this place?" he demanded. "Tell us."

"I closed my eyes and went to sleep," Blake said simply. "How else does one enter a dream?"

"Is it true?" said the first man, seeming to suffer an existential crisis. "Does he dream us, or do we dream him? And each other?"

"Be quiet," said his leader, drawing a grunt of approval from the third and rather large man who was glowering silently beneath his tusky helmet. "He is another bearer of the Gift, nothing more. They arise, one after another, blazing bright and guttering out. They hunger, gorge, and are gone… but we remain, we have her for an anchor."

Blake shook his head but the feeling remained. "You seem… familiar, who are you?"

"We are echoes of those who once bore the hunger, the Gift," replied the female mage.

"You were spirit-eaters," Blake said, "but you embraced rather than defy the _curse_."

"We worshipped the _Gift_ and passed it amongst ourselves," said their leader, matching Blake's correction with his own, "each revelling in hunger for his allotted time and then slain by their successor. Sweet Juraj was first, gorging on the spirits of the wood, turning verdant green to withered black until her time had passed. Then Koszik crushed her skull and the Gift passed to him."

The large man grunted again and the woman, Juraj, glanced at him with an expression that suggested that he was Koszik and that there was still some lingering resentment over having had her skull crushed. Whether that resentment was because she had wanted more than her allotted time or because she had expected a less brutal death was less clear though.

"Poor Koszik hungered only briefly," their leader continued, "he tried to devour a great tree spirit, but it fell on him and cracked his spine."

"Yes, I have met that Treant and he told me how he passed out but managed to fall in the right direction," Blake replied. This admission drew a scowl from Koszik as he realised if Blake had spoken to that Treant then it had survived that long ago attack and that Blake had spoken to it rather than devour it. "What of you," Blake asked the leader, "did you also hunger?"

"Did _I_ hunger?" repeated that man in surprise. "Oh yes, I sought to drink more deeply than any. I cast about for a soul that was vast enough to truly quench my hunger. My eyes always turned back to the forest and I called upon a guide, a warden of the wood, who knew the secret trails to the Wood Man's grove. And he guided me true."

"And then the Wood Man sent him to a Plane of Fire to burn forever."

"And then that," the man said, not looking or sounding troubled by this. "But, if you have walked under the eaves of the great forest you have touched the Wood Man's essence. Every creature that dies in his domain, every corpse that moulders under rock or silent eaves, is joined to him. To drink of such a spirit, to gorge on the soul of the living forest, is to embrace the Gift as no one else. And for a time, even our hunger would be sated."

"An interesting tale," said Blake politely.

"Yes, and now you must leave," the man replied, his spear coming up from rest and the others of his group spreading out a little. "Where you walk the hunger follows, trailing like a jackal in your wake, and it devours memories as surely as souls."

"Can you protect our lady from the hunger," demanded the other man, shuffling noiselessly, "from the Faceless Man?"

"The Red Woman is our anchor-stone," added Juraj, "all the others are lost and gone. Except perhaps The Boy. And the Wall, always the Wall."

"Is this truly an existence though?" Gann asked. "To be as echoes within a dream within a curse?"

"More existence than nothingness," retorted Juraj.

"We do not need your ministrations dream-walker," said the leader to Gann. "Secrecy and silence are our lady's protection. You will leave this place before the hunger follows you here and swallows her and us up."

"No," Blake replied, glaring past them at the Red Woman. "_You_ will leave this place, you and your Red Wizard mistress. You will leave this place, you will leave this dream, and you will leave my mind."

With that Blake recited the words of magic to unleash a _Firebrand_. He did have other spells that evoked different elements, or used magical energy directly, for those times when he was facing something resistant to fire but as the ball of flame split and struck he saw that his usual opening attack had been useful again. One corner of Blake's mouth quirked a little as he saw the slight surprise on the enemy faces as the fireballs staggered them back a little.

Growing up in a small village it had been no secret that he was trying to strike a balance between the lessons in the arcane he took from Tarmas and what he learned training with Georg and the militia. It had seemed natural to him to continue using the skills in arms and armour even if that made the use of the arcane more difficult. But being used to his skills being no secret it had been a surprise to Blake the first time he had surprised someone with his spellcasting. He had not intended to present a false image of himself as a 'simple warrior' but if wearing armour let people misjudge his abilities, as well as keeping solid metal between them and him, then that was useful and somewhat amusing.

The fireballs had not done much harm to three of their four foes but Juraj with her more conventional wizard's garb was in more trouble. Her robes had caught fire a little rather than just being heated like the chain of her leader or the breastplate of Koszik or smouldering slightly like the leather of the other man. She sounded a little panicked as she slapped at the small fires and seemed thoroughly preoccupied by this for now.

Koszik touched one hand to where his breastplate had been struck and where his chest was beginning to feel hot despite the insulation of his padded shirt. Then he snarled and roared, his teeth looking near as impressive as the tusks on his open face helmet, and charged at Blake, his halberd swinging and stabbing out. As he sidestepped and deflected this attack with his shield Blake had a slight flashback to the trial of combat, how Lorne had chosen a similar tack, and how hard he had been to kill while his anger still filled him. This could be messy and especially since, glancing quickly around, Blake realised he had lost sight of the third man.

"Careful," Blake warned, "looks like one of them is sneaky."

"So noted," replied Gann, "and when have you known me to not be careful?"

Before Blake could reply Gann stabbed his spear out at the similarly armed leader of the four. There was a clack as the man managed to, barely, parry this with his own spear and the shafts of the weapons met. Gann drew back with impressive speed and stabbed out again, forcing the man to twist aside but not preventing the man from launching his own attack. Between them the spears flickered as they tested each other's abilities.

Blake avoided another charge from Koszik and struck back. Unfortunately though Koszik's anger made him more predictable it also made him stronger and faster and he managed to deflect this blow rather than it being a sold hit. The magic and sharpness of Blake's sword still carved a small chunk out of Koszik's halberd shaft though as it glanced off this rather than striking Koszik. Blake stepped forward to follow up on this attack but then he found his arm snagged as a sickle blade hooked around it.

The blade did not cut in as it would have on unarmoured flesh, or through padded or leather armour, as the curve of it was drawn around Blake's arm like a surgeon's defleshing knife. It did hold him in place for a moment though as his attacker stabbed at him with the dagger in his other hand. The slim blade found a chink in Blake's armour and its tip grated on the chainmail beneath as it sliced into the leather, and the layer of emergency gold, on Blake's padded shirt over his kidney. As quickly as the blade was stabbed in though it was withdrawn as the man recoiled with a cry of pain.

Blake smiled, despite the pain that showed he had been cut slightly, as the practice he had put into learning to cast persistent _Death Armour_ paid off. He preferred magic that helped with not being hit but it seemed fair to return some of the pain if someone did manage to strike you. And learning this had seemed more worthwhile after the fight in Okku's barrow where it would at least have been tickling the bear-god while he pinned Blake down. The man's reaction did seem too great though as this aura did not hurt that much even against those less formidable than a god-of-bears.

"Spirits," Blake commented curtly. "Unused to pain?"

"Perhaps," replied Gann smoothly, "so let us test that suggestion and see what dis…"

Halfway though his sentence Gann turned and thrust backwards with the butt of his spear, driving it into the side of the leather armoured man's mouth. He staggered sideways, spitting blood and pieces of teeth, as his cheek and lips split open under the impact. Even Blake was surprised by this attack as Gann had made it look so much that he was just pulling his spear back for another thrust at their leader.

"Distractions we can offer them," Gann finished, giving a brief grin before twisting back to face the enemy leader.

The enemy leader was not there to be faced though. Juraj had finished slapping out the fires on her robes and was wincing as she tried to shape her slightly burnt hands to cast spells. The leader had taken advantage of Gann's distraction to dash the short distance back to her. He muttered an invocation. Healing energies flowed from him and as these passed through her hands the unhealthy redness faded to healthy pink and the tightness of the skin relaxed. Juraj flexed her hands and nodded in gratitude but her leader was not there to see this as he was already moving back to meet Gann.

"Ah," Gann said, sounding a little condescending, "you have _some_ healing. So what 'god' are you deluded enough to worship and think grants you that power?"

Not replying for a moment as he flicked his spear out and forced Gann to parry the man sneered at Gann's attempt to taunt him. "My power comes from the spirits, just as yours does, fool," he said, staggering Gann more with this than with his physical attacks.

"You…you jest," Gann protested, denying the truth that he could sense in those words. "How could you repay the gifts of the spirits by devouring them and calling _that_ a gift?"

"The spirits had always been a source of power," the man sneered, launching another attack that Gann barely avoided in his shock, "as spirit-eater I simply gave them no choice but to be thus. The gift of the curse let me take rather than rely on the charity of 'gifts' that could be withdrawn."

Gann's shock changed to anger as the man satisfied tone and expression registered. Not only had he betrayed the spirits but he was proud of the atrocities he had committed in service of himself and the hunger. With a speed that surprised even him Gann parried the next attack and struck back. The leader of the four former hosts almost lost his balance as he had to jump back to avoid a spearhead in his guts. Then he almost lost his grip on his spear as he parried and had to quickly release one hand as the spearshafts slid along each other and almost mashed his fingers between them.

Fortunately for him Juraj finally joined the fray. Her robes being on fire, her hands being burned, and the temptation to call on powerful magic rather than spells that would not harm her 'allies' had all delayed her actions. Koszik in particular she would not mind 'accidentally' hurting but putting that aside she gathered her arcane power and unleashed it with a spell of _Greater Missile Storm_. A flurry of magical missiles erupted from her hands and arced away to home in on Blake and Gann.

Blake met Koszik's attack with one of his own and, through luck as much as skill, managed to strike the weakened part of the halberd shaft again. As the shaft snapped and Koszik looked at the two halves of his weapon he managed to somehow look even angrier. Blake shifted balance and brought his sword back for a follow up blow but then out of the corner of his eye he saw a flicker of blue. He barely had begun to turn his head when the magical missiles struck and drove a grunt from his lungs and him a little off balance. Patches of Blake's armour glowed slightly as it re-emitted the energy it had absorbed back into the weave.

Gann was less fortunate as though he was facing more towards Juraj and had more warning this did not make much difference compared with his armour being so much less protection against this attack than Blake's. Rather than being absorbed by how metal had been treated the energy burned into the leather and the flesh beneath. One of Gann's legs buckled as a missile struck him on the hip and pain shot up and down from the impact. For a moment this pain and that of the other impacts dimmed the world around Gann and his spear drooped in his hands.

Seeing Gann stagger the leader of the four stabbed his own spear out at him, but Blake was there. The tip of the man's spearhead grated across the wood and then clanked against the metal blade-ridge down the middle of Blake's shield as he thrust it across in front of Gann and drove the man's spear to the side with his shield's motion. For a moment both were vulnerable as Blake had needed to turn his back to the man and the man was off balance from the power of his own diverted attack. With a creak of leather from the shield straps Blake pulled back. It would have been easier once he had his shield moving to just let that momentum carry him through the rest of a pirouette but that would have swept his shield into Gann.

There was a roaring of semi-vocal curses as Koszik charged at his distracted foe. He might no longer have a Halberd but the blade and one half of the shaft made quite a good axe and the other half of the shaft with its ferrule was an acceptable club. Blake braced himself and met Koszik's attack while Gann had regained some of his balance and half skipped sideways to continue fighting the leader and give Blake some room while protecting his back. There was a slightly booming thud as Koszik's 'club' met Blake's shield. Despite his seemingly bestial rage this blow was a well judged one, angled to hit the shield and try to drive it to one side for the follow up blow from the 'axe'. At the last moment though Blake had twisted and so the club met a shield moving in the opposite direction rather than stationary. The doubling of the impact sent a twinge through Blake's arm but that his shield was still in position and he had robbed Koszik of his momentum was more important.

Having been stopped from twisting one way Koszik could not twist back the other way in a forehand blow with his 'axe' but he could punch it forward in a slightly overhand attack. Blake tried to dodge this but did not succeed entirely as a fresh mark was scored down the face of his shield. Then the 'club' was coming back and Blake had to block that attack. Koszik's rage made his tactics less subtle and this let Blake better judge and deflect his blows. Even so the unrelenting fury of these attacks were keeping Blake a little off-balance and preventing him from taking advantage of how much they were also leaving Koszik open to a counter-attack.

The leader stabbed at Gann. For the moment the Hagspawn was moving slower but the man knew that if he gave him a chance he would summon some healing magic. Then the patches of magic-charred flesh that were hampering his foe with the pain of moving and causing them to split and tear would be restored to healthy tissue that would stretch and flex. Gann deflected the attack, though less effortlessly than before and a twitch around his eyes showed this had caused him another jolt of pain. The man cursed a little at this and then as he noticed Koszik also was fighting alone.

"Iroj!" their leader called. "Stop hanging back…" He thrust out again, barely stopping Gann from having the time to heal. "Help Koszik!"

The leather-armoured man, Iroj, gave his leader a dubious look. He'd tried stabbing that armoured fellow and it had _hurt_ as well as not working all that well. Reluctantly Iroj began circling in and trying to look like he was looking for a chance to attack rather than waiting for Koszik to get the job done.

Gann saw a chance in how hurried the attack to stop him healing had been and thrust his own spear back, managing to score the man's leather breastplate. "Help him?" Gann mocked as the man jumped back a moment too late. "I think you should look for help for yourself as you _will_ pay for your crimes against the spirits."

Koszik's snarling of curses and the rhythmic sound of his pounding against Blake's shield suddenly faltered as he swung his 'axe' and it slipped from his hand. Through his anger he began to realise he was in quite a lot of pain. He looked down at his hand and saw that the leather of his gauntlet had burned and cracked and split and that the edges of these splits were becoming damp as something oozed through them. For a moment Koszik stared at his hand in surprise.

That moment was long enough for Blake to catch his breath and attack. Koszik quickly swung his 'club' in a hurried parry but that was not his best hand and his haste made it a clumsy swing. Blake dipped the path of his sword a little so rather than meeting the 'club' and biting into the wood it met the wrist of the hand holding it. The fingers relaxed as the tendons leading to them from the muscles of the forearm were severed along with everything else. As the 'club' and the hand continued their separate ways Blake's sword continued on. But despite its sharpness, further enhanced by a temporary spell, it had been slowed by passing through Koszik's wrist. This and the change in its path and Koszik's movement meant it barely did more than scratch Koszik's helmet as it glanced off the curve of it.

However the blow and having lost his hand did stagger Koszik and begin to break the rage that was giving him strength. The smooth motion of Blake's sword froze for an almost imperceptible pause before he brought it back. This enemy was almost helpless, one hand ruined and the other hand gone, but the thought of offering quarter was a flitting one as Koszik continued to snarl curses and threats that showed he would not surrender.

Blake cursed to himself as his sword hit Koszik in the side. Against leather or an unarmoured foe that would have cut deep and even if the metal had not reached that far the magic of his sword discharging into the flesh would have reached the spine. But Koszik was more heavily armoured than most of the enemies Blake had faced in Rashemen so all it did here was dent the metal where the Breastplate curved around. Even if it did feel like the impact might have broken a few ribs that was still sloppy and Blake was annoyed with himself as he knew better.

Measuring his foe Blake took half a step back to decide which of the places he should have struck he would strike at now. Koszik was losing blood rapidly from his wrist so maybe a cut to thigh or arm could speed that further… then Blake realised he could hear spellcasting and recognised the spell. He turned just as Juraj finished and a beam of _Disintegrate _joined her hands to his chest. The half step back had given her a clear shot and Blake's breastplate glowed brightly as it tried and failed to absorb the magic. It was just too much in one narrow beam and the spellate through the enchanted Mithril plate and spread across the chainmail beneath. The metal absorbed the direct effects but enough heat burned across Blake's chest from his breastplate's attempt to re-radiate the magic energy that his padded undershirt began to smoulder.

This was more than enough to drive Blake back and he barely managed to control his fall enough to make himself end up down on one knee rather than on his arse or flat on his back. Iroj saw his chance as well and that if he hesitated any more then Juraj might cast another spell and get the credit. He quickly scabbarded his dagger so he could use both hands on his sickle and darting forward and behind Blake brought the curve of his sickle around and against the curve of Blake's neck. Iroj grasped the other end of his sickle blade with his other hand and threw his weight into pulling back and up. Either this would cut Blake's throat or if the edge of the sickle were defeated by the chainmail then would still probably break his neck with the sudden wrench.

As Iroj pulled though Blake moved with this pull and flung himself backwards. Iroj stumbled off balance as his pull met no resistance and then went flat on his back as Blake's armoured shoulders hit him in the ribs. The breath went from his lungs as Blake managed to land on him as though Blake was not the largest of men he was not small and with his armour this was a considerable weight. As Iroj fought for breath Blake twisted. He was not winded as he'd anticipated the impact but the pain in his chest made him clumsy. The world was a little dark around the edges for Blake but he managed to keep his weight on Iroj and plant his shield on him to keep him down. Then he punched Iroj in the mouth with the crossguard of his sword. This seemed dimly satisfying so Blake smashed the pommel of his sword down on the bridge of Iroj's nose and then again, and again.

Gann glanced across and bit back a curse of his own as he saw Blake slowly but determinedly turning Iroj's face to pulp. There did not seem much power in the blows, it was more like Blake was simply lifting his arm and letting it fall with its weight and that of the armour and sword back down. Gann had seen Berserkers of Rashemen in a similar state when their sparring match had reached the point where ability to think had left them but the unwillingness to quit had not. Blake seemed just as punch-drunk and unable to see the enemy wizard circling and seeking an angle for another spell or the tusked-helmeted fool having regained enough wits to be wrapping an almost instantly blood soaked cloth around the stump of his wrist.

A quick flurry of wild blows drove the leader of their enemies back and then Gann sprinted across to near Blake. He could hear the footsteps in pursuit but ignored them as he concentrated on one of the healing methods he knew that would affect both himself and Blake. The magic flowed through him and out and Gann sighed in relief as his own wounds became less painful and as he tried to sidestep and turn. The appeal had taken just a moment too long though and Gann had started moving that moment too late, fresh agony streaked through him as the spearhead of his enemy carved a chunk out of his battered leather armour and his side.

"Seems is not me that needs help," taunted the man as blood soaked down towards Gann's leg.

Gann did not reply other than to attempt to return the favour but make it a more solid hit. The man danced back a little, avoiding Gann's spearthrust and satisfied to not press the attack. The Hagspawn was bleeding and this would slow him even if Juraj did not manage to strike him with a spell as she had the one that had betrayed the gift.

Blake meanwhile blinked a few times as he looked down at the ruined face, the blood bubbling as Iroj breathed through his smashed mouth and nose, and then at the gore coating the pommel of his sword. He did seem to have done a lot of damage and people had died from less battering, but a couple of blows would have kept this fellow dazed long enough for him to stand and use the blade of his sword for a more immediately fatal wound. As the shock began to wear off and Blake's mind cleared of that as it had of pain, thanks to Gann, he heard a familiar sound.

Pushing up on his shield, with a slight crunch from Iroj as the metal blade-ridge dug in, Blake rocked back onto his knees. Another beam of _Disintegrate _streaked past him and Iroj, barely missing them both, and spent itself into the dreamscape's ground. Juraj scowled at Blake as he glared at her and then her hands began moving again as her voice called on the power of the Weave to cast another spell. Unfortunately for her in her annoyance with having missed she had taken too long scowling before starting this and had not noticed the subtler abbreviated twitches or the muttering of Blake's own spellcasting. Theoretically he did not need even those slight movements to betray his intent but it was hard to not wiggle his fingers at all.

A _Vitriolic Sphere_ formed and arced up from in front of Blake to burst over Juraj. The acid soaked into her hair and clothes, which began smoking as they were eaten away at. Her skin began to blister and her spellcasting words and movements became screams and attempts to shake the acid off herself. Juraj continued to scream as pain like she had not felt in decades, if ever, wracked her dreamform. The thinner acid that did most of the initial damage had flowed off her or had spent itself but the spell was a nasty one. Some of the acid was more inclined to cling to the target, like river mud compared with river water, and this continued to burn at her.

These screams seemed to rouse Koszik and bring him back from the daze of blood loss and the pain of his rough bandage against the fresh wound of his stump. He lurched back to his feet and tried to pick up his 'axe' with his remaining hand as blood seeped and dripped from where his other hand had been. Koszik snarled and tried to work himself back up into a rage as his hand failed to work and fresh pain from the magic burns Blake's _Death Armour_ had inflicted shot up his arm from it. Realising Blake had noticed him Koszik charged. He was confident he could just bear him down and then beat him to death just as he had been beating Iroj to death.

Koszik's attack was quite easy to read so Blake rose to the challenge and up off his knees. A couple of short steps and his sword stabbing forward met Koszik as he charged. The impact drove Blake back down onto one knee again but also drove his sword through Koszik's breast and backplate and the guts between. Blake twisted at the sword as Koszik tried to scrape the tusks on his helmet into Blake's open-faced helm and across his face. For a moment they struggled, rage and size competing against magic and skill, but then Koszik's weight became dead weight as finally the damage from the sword and the magic it was discharging into his innards took effect.

Blake braced himself and stood, angling his sword to let the corpse's own weight slide it off with a wince-inspiring screech as the edges of the cut through the breastplate scraped back along the blade. He glanced between their foes that were still fighting and at the Red Wizard who was still watching. While Juraj was still screaming there was a chance to kill her but also a chance to kill the Red Wizard or to help Gann since he was bleeding.

"Finish _her_!" Gann snapped, his spearhead and that of the leader clinking together as they parry-thrust. Gann knew his opponent was being cautious in waiting for his wound to weaken him and if his side did not hurt so much he might have been flattered.

Juraj's head whipped up as she heard this and knew that, aside from their Red Lady, there was only one 'her' present and she was the one that had been injured and would be 'finished'. As feared the gift-bearer was moving towards her and picking up speed despite the weight of his damaged armour. Juraj tried to focus through the pain of the last lingering globs of acid and through the panic of being charged by someone so covered in blood and with so little of it being his own. Her voice stumbled, her invocation failed, and that was the last she knew as Blake put the momentum of his charge into his blow, twisting at the waist and going for power rather than subtlety, and swept her head from her shoulders.

The leader looked worried as Juraj's decapitated body slumped to the ground and her head rolled to a stop. It was not that he had any particular liking for the others after having spent these timeless years stuck in this fragment of a dreamscape with them. But the odds were becoming poor as though Iroj was stirring he was not coming around fast enough to be of use and nor was the Hagspawn weakening fast enough. Juraj and Koszik had managed to slow the betrayer of the gift and leave his chest vulnerable to a spearthrust but that might also not be enough.

As confident as he was in his abilities the leader decided he needed some help and to be more subtle than that roaring fool Koszik. He stabbed at Gann and this was parried, stabbed the same blow again with the same result, a third time only slightly different and another parry, and then the fourth attack. Gann was cautious that this could be an attempt to lull him into a pattern as the repetition of the blows was not a complex trick. But as he carefully moved to parry he'd not expected the man to draw back and make a dash to try to heal Iroj.

Reaching his subordinate's side the man made his demand of the power of the spirits and channelled their energy as healing. Iroj's eyes fluttered open as the wounds healed over and the pain and dizzy vagueness left him. His face would still require more work to rebuild his nose and regrow his teeth but at least he was no longer breathing through and nearly choking on his own blood.

Unfortunately for Iroj he would not get that chance. His eyes widened further and more suddenly as Gann caught up with the leader and stabbed past him and into Iroj's heart to kill him. A second or two more and Iroj might have been awake enough to wriggle aside but that was something he'd not had. Annoyed at the waste of his healing the leader swept the butt of his spear in a short arc behind him. Gann hopped and staggered back as this butt caught him in the knee and there was a slight crunch of cartilage. The man continued his sweeping movement to turn and bring his spear into stabbing position and then attacked his off-balance foe.

Gann parried again, just, but his knee now hurt almost as much as his side did and was hampering his movements even more. It was supporting him for now but he didn't know how much strain he could put on it so he had to be cautious. The leader smiled at Gann, a promise of death, and stabbed out again. This Gann barely avoided but a wince went across his face as his knee twinged. Sensing victory the man began another thrust, but had to quickly jump sideways as Blake arrived and his sword blurred through where the man had been.

Blake was rather hunkered down behind his shield as he was very aware of the hole in his breastplate and chainmail. There was barely more metal over his chest than went into one of those impractical stage garments they dressed 'female warriors' in to increase audience interest by decreasing the support for and concealment over the, usually generous, bosom of the actress. Blake dabbed out his sword again in a short movement and the man stabbed his spear back at Blake's face, where he was peering over his shield, and drove him back half a step. Then Gann stabbed him in the side.

The man coughed as air was driven from his lungs by the impact but that cough was a truncated one as Blake thrust forward past the now drooping spear and stabbed him in the other side. For a moment the man was held up by Blake and Gann's weapons and then, the metal of Blake's sword and Gann's spearhead scraping slightly against each other within him, they withdrew and he fell to his knees. He choked and vomited blood as his head drooped but managed to start gathering more power from the spirits to try to heal himself and try to at least inflict another wound on those that were killing him. This was interrupted though as Gann drove his spear back into him, a few inches above the previous wound, and then pulled back so Blake could step in and bring his sword down on the back of the man's neck.

This was not a clean decapitation as however much the man's posture down on his knees with his head bowed was similar to that for an execution Blake was not practised in delivering an executioner's blow. He'd been fortunate against the Gargoyle and the neck there had been a larger target. Here the edge of his sword bit deep into the base of the man's skull but this blow and the magic discharging from his sword into the man's brain was just as fatal as if the head had been taken fully rather than only partially off. Gann smiled weakly and uttered his own request to ask the spirits for their blessing to heal him, and then the pain lines on his face relaxed as his knee became sound and blood stopped seeping down his side.

"I liked this armour," commented Blake, looking rueful as he felt along the edges of the hole in his ruined breastplate. "Protected me and didn't restrict my movements as much as Iron or Adamantine would…"

"Remember this is a dream," Gann replied, his smile broadening. "We could have died here, the link between mind and body is strong, but your great lump of metal is still undamaged in the waking world."

Blake glanced up from where he had been pressing his chin to his chest to look down and nodded before commenting. "Aye, seems was a myth that you feel no pain in dreams. That asking someone to pinch you would show if you were dreaming."

"I can think of more pleasant things to ask someone to do in a dream. I do not know if your myth is true in normal dreams, just that it is not in the shared dreamscapes I have so long walked, and that, yes, that certainly did hurt."

"It would have hurt more if she had taken a part," muttered Blake, frowning and pointing at the Red Woman. "Reminds me of the Veil Theatre where the Red Wizards left it to their Gnolls to fight until it was too late."

Gann tilted his head slightly to one side as he considered the body language of the silently watching woman. "I think she might not be as hostile or as unwelcoming as her supposed protectors," Gann mused, "who were maybe more her jailers."

"Let us speak to her then, there _is_ a serenity about her that engenders some trust, but let us still be on our guard for treachery."

"Of course," Gann replied, taking a fresh grip on his spear.

The Red Woman seemed almost to not notice their approach until they were nearly within striking distance. Her gaze focussed rather than being into nothingness and her posture became less slack though her expression did not change from vague blankness. The impression she gave was that she was not fully a part of this dreamscape, not as completely within it as the others had been and as Blake and Gann were still.

"I waited for you," breathed the Red Woman, breaking her silence, "I feared you would not find me before… before the hunger took me."

"She speaks as if an echo, across a great distance," Gann commented to Blake, who nodded at this apt description. She did seem faint as if her source was lost in the mists of a valley or of time. Gann turned to the Red Woman. "And a familiar echo," he continued, "those others called you their anchor. Why?"

"A strong memory can anchor the weak, and I am but a memory," replied the Red Woman, "very strong and very old, a memory of love lost but not forgotten."

"Those others did not seem weaker than you," Blake frowned, "and if you were truly their anchor then it is _your_ fault that they were still within this curse to become within my mind. Without you they might have drifted away."

"This mask fragment contains my essence, all that I am," said the Red Woman, ignoring Blake's words and proffering the fragment. "I have saved it for you, curse-bearer, kept it hidden in this remote and forgotten place."

"That mask she offers," Gann advised, his eyes narrowing as he peered at it, "if it can exist outside the dream it is a powerful thing indeed. It is your choice to take it or not, but you'd best decide quickly."

"We will not see each other again, not until you must draw on the memory of what once was. Know that I will be safe, while the mask is in your hands."

Blake was not sure if he cared whether she would be safe or if saw her again or not. His curse was due to the Red Wizards and he had just suffered considerable pain at the hands of this woman's protectors. But he trusted Gann's judgement that this fragment would be powerful thing and there might be clues to be learned from it if it could leave this dreamscape when they woke.

"I'll trust you are a metaphor," Blake curtly nodded to the Red Woman as he took the mask, "the deceitfulness of Red Wizards being used to show the complexity of this curse, and I hope this 'memory' is worth the trouble your presence has caused."

There seemed to be more the Red Woman wanted to say but the brilliant sun of the dream suddenly began to fade, the white of the snow to blur into a mist and the corpses of the previous curse-bearers to become indistinct blobs against that haze. The words from the Red Woman's lips to become like an echo that had travelled too far a distance and become muted and muddled noise. Blake felt his eyes open and the scene of the Dreamscape was replaced by that of the Mosstone. This was far preferable as it included a pretty Tiefling looking down at him. Unfortunately she was crouching just outside of grabbing and kissing range so that denied Blake one, pleasant, way to take the look of concern off her face.

"Are you okay harbour-boy?" asked Neeshka, sounding as worried as she looked. "You were muttering and twitching in your sleep."

"You should have been resting yourself my love," Blake replied, sitting up and pressing the heel of one hand to his eye. It was a little disorientating finding himself back in chainmail that was intact, with less armour on, and without his helmet or shield or sword.

"Never mind that," frowned Neeshka, noticing Blake was distracted, "you didn't answer my question."

"I met, we met… Gann had also entered the dream… what seemed to be aspects of previous spirit-eaters," Blake replied, "the one that gave that huge Treant the blight and the one that tried to eat the Wood Man and got that luckless tracker condemned to fire."

"And the muttering and twitching?" Neeshka pressed.

"They were not pleased to see us," said Blake, smiling reassuringly, "but we won the argument."

"Hrm," Neeshka pouted, "I don't like the idea of you fighting without me there to protect you… and where did you get that?"

Blake looked down at his hand where Neeshka was looking and nodded to himself. "Ah, seems this can exist outside the dream, the aspects were protecting…"

"Or imprisoning…" Gann commented.

"Someone they called the Red Woman. She was dressed as a Red Wizard and looked vaguely familiar," continued Blake, "perhaps like the one you slew back in Okku's burrow and claimed she was the memory of a lost love and that this mask contained her essence."

"Well let's burn it then," Neeshka suggested, her face twisting in remembered grudge. "If she looked like the daughter then she looked like the 'headmistress' mother that had her gargoyles abduct you, and looked like their conspirator Lienna did before she burned herself. Not just a Red Wizard but one that might be related to…"

"No!" Gann protested, "I mean… I do not think that wise. Not until we learn more about why that part of the dream took that face."

"Aye," agreed Blake, closing his eyes a moment in thought. "I do not trust this gift and would happily cast it into fire. Nothing that was said in that dream was outside what we had already learned or could easily imagine. But in matters of dreams I trust Gann's instincts and we need whatever clues we can find."

Neeshka frowned at Blake as Gann smiled. "I thank you, though I hope you also trust my instincts outside of dreams as well."

"Fish for compliments elsewhere Gann," Blake replied. "You know I trust your instincts or I'd not be taking your counsel or, perhaps, even travelling with you."

"Ah, faint praise like that the Witches provide you, but I agree your actions do show what your words and attitudes sometimes do not."

"I hope you know what you are doing harbour-boy," Neeshka grumbled, annoyed that Blake had not obeyed her suggestion.

"So do I," admitted Blake, "but if possible we shall burn the Headmistress instead of, or as well as, this mask fragment."

"That's fair," Neeshka said, her usual smile reappearing.

"If we have finished with the hag-spawns idea then let us be on our way," rumbled Okku, impatient with the discussion. "It is tedious watching you creatures of flesh lie around and the fire still burns and the blight still infects the forest."

"Aye," Blake nodded to the bear god, "let's see if these Orglash essences will counter that Shape of Fire."


	9. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Dawn was only just breaking as they departed Immil Vale. Blake and Gann had slept longer than it had seemed for them in the dream but, notwithstanding Okku's grousing over the tedium, had not slept that long. What had delayed them though was Blake catching a whiff of himself. Travelling through snowy mountains and resting in caves and hollows carved from snow banks had not encouraged much undressing. Immil Vale was more temperate though and perhaps because his nose had thawed Blake suddenly realised the evidence of their travels.

Things would have been simpler if the water in the bubbling pools had been just a little cooler or less laden with mineral. Fortunately there were a few metal buckets to be found at the mine and the, now unfrozen, stream had some good clean water to rinse these out with and fill them. The water was still rather cold but the magic that had worked on the lake water worked here as well to take the chill off. One good strip wash each, clean underwear, and a small amount of armour maintenance went a long way towards making them fresher for the return journey down through the mountains.

This was a little easier as though steep slopes were almost as hard to descend as to climb they did know now where good places to camp were and discussing the full details of the Mosstone dream with Neeshka and Okku had given some extra conversation the first night. As they reached the edges of the burnt forest though this looked even worse by comparison with their fairly fresh memories of the lushness of Immil Vale. It was hard to resist the temptation to increase their pace despite knowing that if they were to fight they needed to not arrive exhausted. The final stage of their journey ended as the grove and the burning, but not burning, trees came into sight and they saw a flicker of movement amongst those.

"Back again," commented Neeshka, "and he's still here."

"Which is lucky," Blake replied, "means he has not burned any further afield, or if he has and then returned it does at least save us hunting him down."

"I had rather hoped he'd have been drawn back to his plane of Fire," complained Gann, "this could be unpleasant."

"We are lucky," Blake mused, unslinging and buckling on his shield, "but not that lucky. Gann…you take the left, I'll take the right." Gann nodded as Blake continued, "I think a simple _Ray of Frost_ might work on the fires, but we'd need more against the shape."

"It is fortunate then that we do both have more," smiled Gann.

They retreated a short distance to make a few preparations that would them against the fire and aid them in extinguishing it. Then they advanced and the two spots of brightness that served the Shape of Fire as eyes turned towards them. The pattern of its flickering and the colour of its flames shifted as it saw they had returned and as it watched to see what they were going to do.

Blake gathered his strength from the weave as Gann beseeched the spirits for aid in lending him their power. Then almost simultaneously Blake sent a _Ray of Frost_ into one burning tree while Gann struck another with _Creeping Cold_. Blake's spell was less powerful than what the spirits had granted Gann. The ray struck the trunk of the tree and ice radiated out from where it struck, but this ice almost instantly hissed away into steam as it took the flames with it. The tree struck by Gann was more thoroughly dealt with as first ice formed and hissed away, as with Blake's spell extinguishing the flames, but then another thicker layer of ice formed. This melted rather than hissed and then a third coating of ice was created by the spirit-power and remained coating the tree trunk.

"Leave my Fires," the Shape of Fire demanded.

Gann and Blake ignored him and struck another pair of trees with magics of cold. Blake glanced at the ice-encrusted trees Gann was leaving and considered whether he needed to use a second _Ray of Frost_ or a more powerful spell. One _Ray of Frost_ did seem enough to put out the fires though and to anger the Shape of Fire.

"Leave _my_ Fires," the Shape of Fire repeated, its flickering growing more violent and its colours more bright.

This demand was no more effective than its first, though Blake and Gann did exchange a glance to warn each other to be ready. Neeshka and Okku also tensed where they were waiting to react. Two more trees were struck, the fires on the trunk replaced for a moment by ice before that disappeared or was twice replaced by fresh ice. The Shape of Fire flared up strongly enough to briefly cast shadows across the snow as it screamed.

"_LEAVE MY FIRES!_" the Shape of Fire howled, charging towards Blake. "You will suffer, you will pay. You will suffer, I will slay! Burn you!"

Blake turned slightly to bring his shield in line. That was why he had taken the right hand side, so the Shape of Fire would be approaching from his left where his shield was. Before the Shape of Fire could reach him though Okku had sprung forward and swept one great paw across what would have been its stomach. This had little effect though and neither did Neeshka's rapier, despite the discharging magic, as it passed through what would have been its neck.

"Damn," Blake muttered, seeing this, "but at least we have drawn him into this plane."

The Shape of Fire had been distracted by the attacks and by cackling at Okku and Neeshka about how ineffective they had been. Blake gathered more arcane power from the Weave and unleashed it in a more powerful spell. A great plume of white appeared in front of him as the little moisture that had not already frozen out of the forest air condensed within the effect of his _Cone of Cold_. The Shape of Fire staggered as this played across him and his heat carved a 'shadow' into the cone. This was both satisfying and frustrating for Blake as there was an even more powerful spell he could have learned.

Gann concentrated and asked the spirits for yet more power. They granted his request for a request of the most powerful level he could cast and the incredible cold of a _Burst of Glacial Wrath_ engulfed the Shape of Fire. This could sometimes literally freeze an enemy solid and the Shape of Fire visibly dimmed under the effect. "That worked," Gann commented, "but… I don't have many."

"Hey!" complained Neeshka. She had been circling around the Shape of Fire to try to keep its attention and only her Tymorra blessed reflexes had let her jump back in time to avoid Gann's magic.

"Hmm," Gann mused, "my apologies, a wider effect than I had thought."

Okku just growled in response as fresh energy flowed into him from the spirits to replace that stolen by the cold. Channelled by the unmatchable will of a bear-god this power let his spirit form shift and heal. Whether his growling was directed at Gann for making him chilled or at the Shape of Fire that was still cackling as its form also recovered was not clear.

"Not kill me, not kill me, I kill you," taunted the Shape of Fire, "stay close, you hurt each other, you hurt, you hurt!"

Blake took a few steps sideways to get a slightly different angle and subtly gestured to Neeshka who nodded just as subtly back. The love they shared and the battles they had been through gave them an almost telepathic bond and as she flung herself sideways Blake was finishing casting another _Cone of Cold_. The edge of the cone barely missed Neeshka but this was deliberate. She had moved just in time and he had aimed just enough the other side of the Shape of Fire.

"Aaaahhhh, you trick, you trick, trick you," the Shape of Fire protested, as it recoiled from the cold, "trick you, bear not dodge, claws not hurt, I burn, you touch, you burn."

Okku snarled and ripped his claws through the Shape of Fire again, his spirit-flesh almost impervious to the heat but the Shape of Fire just reforming behind his paw rather than being torn apart by the blow. The Shape of Fire gave the impression of capering about as Okku roared again in frustration. "Ha ha, not hurt me, I hurt you, I burn, you burn," it taunted.

Gann tried _Creeping Cold_ as, unlike the _Burst of Glacial Wrath_, that would not affect Okku but, unlike against the trees, this did not affect the Shape of Fire either. A _Ray of Frost_ from Blake also met with a distinct lack of success. The Shape of Fire's capering increased as it danced around near Okku and tried to provoke him into more useless paw swings or bites.

"Red Knight curse it," Blake hissed, annoyed at how his plans had gone wrong, "there is a spell called _Polar Ray_ that could be aimed precisely enough, but that had not seemed a priority to learn as it _would_ only affect one target."

"If you have to injure me to destroy this abomination little-one," rumbled Okku, "then so be it."

"Hmm, maybe not…" Neeshka said, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought, "give me those Orglash Essences harbour-boy."

Blake glanced to his darling. He didn't know what she was thinking, but he did know that he loved and trusted her so his right hand went into his pack and the magic of the bag let him find the jar almost at once. A low fast underhand sent the, thankfully firmly sealed, jar to Neeshka who deftly snatched it from the air. Finding and throwing the jar had distracted Blake for a moment and he had to quickly draw his sword and send it through the Shape of Fire. The magic on his blade discharged but seemed to affect the Shape of Fire as little as the metal did or as Okku's claws had.

"Blast," snarled Blake, putting a great deal of feeling into that one word.

"You can put that away again," Neeshka called. "Use this."

Blake glanced at her again and saw to his surprise that she was holding a longsword that was dripping snow as moisture condensed on it into ice and fell in tiny fragments from it. Okku roared and charged, interposing himself between Blake and the Shape of Fire as Blake scabbarded his sword and half jogged over to his sweetheart. "Where did you get that?" he asked in bafflement.

"The longsword was in the mines with the Bheur," Neeshka explained as Blake took it, and waggled it a little to test the weight and balance. "You are lucky I brought it, not very magical and not very valuable."

"It looks…" Gann began, breaking off to concentrate and beseech the spirits for another _Creeping Cold_, "quite magical to me, and rather cold."

"That would be the Orglash Essence I sprinkled on it," replied Neeshka with a smile of pride at her own cleverness.

"Then I suggest little-one," Okku rumbled, "that if this lets you hurt this _thing_ then we 'sprinkle' your other weapons."

"I think not," said Blake, circling around to find a good angle to attack the Shape of Fire and trying to get used to the lighter sword. "Beneath your barrow were some ruins with animated weapons. When I made them hot and then very cold they became brittle and easily shattered…"

"But if that sword breaks," Neeshka interrupted, "we have not lost much."

Okku rumbled and nodded. These creatures of flesh could not equal his might, or the effectiveness of his claws and teeth, but the magic of their weapons did at least allow them, all combined, to nearly come close. Best to not risk them being reduced to less 'powerful' weapons or that gap would widen and they would become even more just spectators to the glory of the bear-god's victories.

Blake saw his opening and thrust forward with the longsword, leaving a trail of frozen moisture in the air behind it, and through the Shape of Fire. As when he struck it with his own sword this was like waving a hand through the smoke of an attempt at cooking but this time the Shape of Fire recoiled in shock. A small patch of dimness formed in its flames and then brightened again as it flickered away.

"Aaaah, is cold, cold burns burning fire," the Shape of Fire protested, "away, away, go away. I burn, not burn with cold, burn with fire, burn, burn the grove."

Pressing the attack Blake began sweeping the longsword through the shape of fire in long quick movements. These barely had any power in them but there was no resistance to overcome so speed and repetition were more important. Dim trails criss-crossed the Shape of Fire's form as the longsword swept back through it before the effects of the previous sweep had faded. The Shape of Fire flickering and the speed with which the dimness brightened began to slow as it was driven back away from Okku.

"Now!" Gann called.

Blake hesitated a moment before realising and stepping back. Gann completed his appeal to the spirits and another _Burst of Glacial Wrath_ erupted around and through the Shape of Fire. It dimmed greatly and if a form of flames could stagger then this one did. Glancing at the ground where ice had formed and at where the edge of that ice was compared with his boot Blake saw that had been quite close.

"Freeze me?" said the Shape of Fire in shock before rallying. "No! Burn you! Burn, Shape of Fire, fire burns, burn you, burn the grove, burn you, burn the grove."

With that the Shape of Fire summoned some reserve of strength and flared up. It was still dim by comparison with when the fight had begun but that just meant its flames were as intense as a campfire rather than a furnace. Fixing the patches of brightness that seemed to serve as eyes on Blake it charged at him. Blake glared back and stood his ground as he could see there was none of his companions behind the Shape of Fire. With speed rather than haste he called on the weave and muttered the invocation to create a _Cone of Cold_. This played over the Shape of Fire but did not stop it. Determination or anger carried the burning spirit of the tracker forward through the cone and Blake found himself engulfed in flames.

His magical warding protected him but Blake still squeezed his eyes shut to further protect them and held his breath to avoid breathing in flame. He waved the longsword about in front of his body and hoped this was passing through the Shape of Fire. There was brightness through his closed eyelids as the fire persisted around him and he knew as the tightness in his chest grew that soon he might drown in flames. Suddenly heat was replaced by cold that seemed to strike Blake to the bone and he staggered back as his legs became weak. There was a thump as his back and Okku's side met and then he felt a slim hand come in under his armpit to help steady him upright against the bear-god's support.

"I know how _I'd_ warm you up…" Neeshka whispered with a smile as Blake looked at her, "if Gann and Okku weren't here at least."

With an effort Blake managed to smile in return before looking to where the Shape of Fire was, lacking friends to catch it, collapsed on the ground of the grove. Gann was looking a little contrite and Blake's brain was not frozen enough to not make the connection. He resolved to not make Gann angry unless he had a spell of immunity to cold, rather than one against fire, in place as even if he was not literally frozen he did feel figuratively chilled to the bone by that _Burst of Glacial Wrath_.

"Sorry," Gann said, noticing Blake was looking at him, "there seemed no other way."

"A… a… agr… greed," replied Blake, his teeth chattering a little.

"It seems to be brightening again," Gann commented, gesturing at the very dim Shape of Fire, "and though another _Burst of Glacial Wrath_ might finish it that would leave me without power for other requests we might need before day's-end."

"Aaaah, where my flames," howled the Shape of Fire as it writhed a little, "flames to burn, burn the grove, burn those that make me cold."

"St… st…" Blake began, before clenching his jaw and trying to speak slower but clearer, "stab… this… into… it… please… sweet… heart."

Neeshka took the longsword from Blake's rather drooping hand and with a worried look removed her support. After hesitating a moment to see if Blake was going to keel over to one side she stepped quickly over to the Shape of Fire and plunged the sword down through it and into the support of the ground beneath. As she returned to Blake's side a dimness appeared in the Shape of Fire's form from the prolonged contact with the sword, but the leather over the wire of the hilt slowly began to smoulder as this same contact began to overcome the Orglash Essences and heat the sword.

Blake concentrated his cold-numbed thoughts and, while still leaning on Okku, managed to summon enough power from the weave and chant clearly enough to send a _Ray of Frost_ across into the Shape of Fire. A tiny patch of extra dimness appeared so the Shape of Fire had been weakened enough to be affected by such a simple spell but only weakened enough for it to be almost rather than totally ineffective. With another effort Blake lurched upwards and away from Okku's support.

"Okku, Neeshka," Blake said, his tone nearly normal, "stay back a little please."

"Very well little-one," rumbled Okku, while Neeshka didn't reply. She was too busy watching her harbour-boy in case he was not as steady on his feet as he hoped.

A staggering step or two and Blake looked down at the Shape of Fire that turned its patches of brightness up to meet his gaze. "You tried to drown me in flame," Blake said, "so now drown in ice."

Blake chanted and as this incantation was completed a spell of _Cone of Cold_ spewed from his hands and over the Shape of Fire. This drove it down but Blake was continuing to chant and to repeat himself and another _Cone of Cold_ spewed forth. The Shape of Fire struggled to rise as it realised Blake was still chanting but as the third and final _Cone of Cold_ was cast it was left sprawled flat in the mud that was drying out in the heat beneath it. Blake resisted the temptation to kick it in the ribs as even if he knew the fire immunity meant he'd not burn his foot he also knew the shape no longer had any ribs. Neeshka moved to join him, her grace making her seem to glide across the short distance, and they looked down with him at the Shape of Fire.

"Is it dead yet?" Neeshka asked.

"Unable to fight," replied Blake, looking at it in assessment, "but still burning and recovering."

"We should finish it," Gann said firmly. "Even if it does not recover enough to start setting fires deliberately again." Gann pointed. "Look, the mere heat of its presence is enough to be troublesome."

Blake followed Gann's gesture and nodded as he saw the nearer trees drying out and a suggestion of smoke. It was hard to tell how hot something was when you had shielded yourself against its effects but it looked like the Shape of Fire was still hot enough to be a danger. "Yes," Blake mused, "but will Orglash Essences kill it or simply drive it back to the Plane of Fire?"

"Does it make a difference?" Neeshka commented.

"Not to us, or to the forest," admitted Blake, before continuing, "but would death be a more merciful fate than being returned to torment? If we can't be sure these will kill it would it be better to use my Curse and make _sure_ it dies?"

"I think you know the answer to that, little one," Okku rumbled, "or you would have devoured it when we were here last rather than risk it burning more of this forest in the delay."

"If eternal torment is what we return it to," added Gann, "then that _is_ the justice the Wood Man meted out for the betrayal committed. You becoming accursed let the tracker escape that for a time so, perhaps, that was mercy enough."

Blake slowly nodded. "Very well."

Making his decision he recovered the Orglash Essences from Neeshka and moved to stand over the Shape of Fire. It was too weak to look at him and a moment of pity stilled Blake's hand before he uncapped the jar and began sprinkling the essences over it. The Shape of Fire howled at the contact as wherever the dust touched its form it dimmed. Blake hardened his heart and continued until the jar was empty, the Shape of Fire had vanished, and rather than screaming the silence of the grove was broken only by the sound of the over-heated longsword shattering in the sudden cold.

Blake dropped the jar by the shards of the longsword and onto the patch of scorched earth where the Shape of Fire had been. "I am glad that I didn't use that on my sword."

Gann looked at Blake for a moment as if he was expecting more, some speech on how justice had been done or what a heavy burden that judgement had been, but saw that all that needed to be said could be read in Blake's face. He had done what was needed and that was the end of the matter.

By a few hours into the journey Neeshka's presence had managed to draw a smile back onto Blake's face. The joy he felt in her presence was enough to overcome or at least submerge his woes. Her love and support was so important to Blake that he, again, wondered how he could ever repay her. As they had travelled through Rashemen though he had been plagued with strange doubts. Or rather found the concern he'd always had feeling far stronger.

As cheerfully as she had recounted her life Blake had noticed the events were less cheery than her voice. She had at least been abandoned at an Orphanage rather than in the Wilderness like Gann but she'd only mentioned rules and punishment and warnings from the Priests of Hel rather than any affection. That did not seem as bad to Blake as he knew it might to some as Daeghun had a similar attitude. But Blake had had the comfort of friends and Neeshka had not mentioned any. It seemed as if her Infernal ancestry had set her apart at the Orphanage as well as, probably, being why she had been raised there.

Then when she had left there she had continued to suffer prejudice with people being more willing to insult her and call her 'Goat Girl' or 'Cursed One' than her name. Blake had always been concerned that her 'love' might only be gratitude as when they first met he had saved her life and almost the first thing she'd said to him after the fight was her surprise that he was nice as nice people generally didn't treat her politely. He was sure of his feelings for her but there was the worry there might be a truer soul mate for her somewhere. That she was only with him because he seemed to be almost the first person to treat her with some kindness rather than this being the love she deserved to feel.

This concern and worry had never been very great but now something inside him was telling him that she and he were not meant to be together. That his soul mate was waiting for him elsewhere on his journey through life, and if Neeshka was not his soul mate then he could not be hers. It was strange how these doubts had increased in this land where Blake had seen even more proof of Neeshka's devotion by her very presence. He stole another long look at Neeshka, who smiled uncertainly at the look on her harbour-boy's face, and reminded himself of how she had followed him here to rescue him and give her support. To aid him with the curse… wait, 'something inside him' was telling him? _'Something inside him'?_

"Harbour-boy?" Neeshka asked as Blake stopped dead and cursed briefly but intensely.

"That Red Wizard should have died slower," growled Blake, one hand touching the centre of his chest.

"Perhaps," Okku murmured, as softly as a god of bears could, "but what brought that to mind _now_ little-one?"

"We have learned this curse comes with memories," said Blake, trying to organise his thoughts without betraying too much or lying, "echoes of past spirit-eaters and their actions. I have doubted something and I just realised those doubts were this curse, not my own fears."

"What were you doubting?" Neeshka asked, reasonably.

Blake hesitated, how could he say he had doubted their love without planting seeds of doubt in her mind? "It does not matter," he said finally, "I know better now and can tell the source and discount those feelings."

Neeshka frowned at Blake but decided to not demand to know what he was hiding. She had her own doubts and fears that she would rather not admit to and demanding total honesty from him might lead to him demanding the same from her. On general principles though she held the frown and glare for long enough to make Blake squirm in the embarrassed harbour-boy fashion she found so cute.

They continued on back into the Ashenwood where the only trail was the one Okku was breaking for them through the snow. His chest was broad and his stamina almost endless so this trail was wide and continued on through the day. Night's fall brought rest for the mortals and continued vigilance for the god-of-bears before dawn came and another day of travelling. As picturesque as snow on bare branches could be and as pleasant as Neeshka's company was, and also he supposed Gann and Okku's, by the time they reached the area of woods near the Lake of Tears Blake was becoming rather sick of the sight of those trees.

"Okku, Gann," Blake asked, glancing around, "what does your nose and connections with the spirits tell you, has the blight worsened?"

"Its stench still hangs on the forest little-one," rumbled Okku, "but more than that somehow."

"Old father bear is correct," Gann added, "something lies across the spirit of the Ashenwood, dimming it, and it is not the blight. I can feel it like a mist, there is a patch of clarity where the sanctuary was restored and a knot of pus around that great Treant, but it is that mist that surrounds and tries to taint them both."

Blake nodded. "That 'mist' might be what Imsha suggested," he mused, "some other aspect of these woods trying to replace the absent Wood Man."

"Enough talk," murmured Okku, "let us see if your prayers were answered and if we can cure this blight."

Nodding again Blake hoped he was heading in the right direction. To his relief there seemed to have not been any heavy snowfall and the corpses of the hunting party still stuck out from the snow and marked a path they had taken. There was no sign of the dog though and Blake allowed himself a moment of concern as they had seen so few living creatures that the dog might have been able to eat. With luck it would have found its way to the garrison and the Berserkers would have welcomed it despite him forgetting to mention it to Yurkov.

The trees with the unsavoury green vapours rising about them came into view and then the pool with the great Treant still lying there beside it. The scene seemed not to have changed though the Treant was still enough as they approached that Blake wondered if they were too late. With a slight rustle of leaves and branches though the Treant stirred and its great woody eyes opened and gazed at them.

"Is that you, little sapling?" asked the Treant, trying to focus on Blake through its illness.

"Yes," Blake replied simply. "Chauntea answered the plea and I have a salve here that will heal you."

"She_ did_?" the Treant said, sounding unflatteringly surprised at Blake's success before recovering. "Well, don't waste it on me, little one. Just see the other trees in this glade are restored. Place your gift in the pond here…their roots will drink from it."

Blake frowned. "But you have the blight too," he pointed out.

"I have, little one, but it is not right for me to fight it," the Treant replied. "When I was first stricken with this blight all those years ago it happened because I had cheated death. That I survived the draining of my own life was an affront to the natural order. I suffered long for it, but such was my penance and it was necessary."

"Not right?" repeated Blake. "I disagree, you cheated death only in the sense that anyone who prevails against a fearsome adversary does. That anyone who suffers a grievous wound and through determination survives does…" Neeshka placed a slim hand on Blake's arm as he began to rant. He glanced at her and nodded. "But if you are sure about this I shall respect your wishes."

"I am sure," the Treant replied calmly. "For me the time has come for a peaceful and long-overdue slumber. I trust you will tend the younglings and see them healed, which means I can stop clinging at last. Good night and farewell little one."

With that the Treant died and Blake could not stop himself from glaring a moment at the corpse. He was beating this curse through sheer bloody-mindedness so surrendering to death rather than raging against it was something he found… irritating. That Treant seemed to have been blessed greatly by Jergal with fatalism and not blessed enough by Ilmater with perseverance. However much he wanted death, after waiting those days for their return, he could have clung to life for a few minutes more to see if the cure worked and to suggest another idea if it did not. Neeshka smiled at Blake and he closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself before opening them and smiling back at her.

"We should go now and see that his wishes are honoured," rumbled Okku as the mated-pair showed no signs of moving.

Blake nodded and gave Neeshka's hand a gentle squeeze before removing it from his arm. Reaching into his pack he removed the beautiful crystal bottle of the cure and moved across to the pond. He crouched and unstoppered the bottle, and then submerged it and began swirling it around so that the contents of the bottle and the pond water would mix. A slight glittering in the water spread out from the swirling and Blake twitched as it felt he was losing his grip on the bottle. As he pulled his hand out of the water though he saw it was that the bottle was fading away and becoming more ethereal.

"No fair," protested Neeshka as the bottle vanished, "I wanted to keep that."

"Aye," Blake agreed, standing and looking at his damp gauntlet, "would have been a nice memento…"

There was a creaking as some trees revealed themselves as Treants. They hesitated a moment, shuddering as the water passed up their trunks from where their roots had drunk it, and then these roots ripped and retracted from the soil as they began towards Blake and the others. Blake looked at them and drew his sword, cursing silently that he did not have time to pull up his chainmail hood to place his helmet over it, though at least his shield was on his arm.

"And these do not seem grateful for our efforts," Blake commented as the metal of his sword hissed over the metal mouth of his scabbard.

"These saplings are too far gone," growled Okku, tensing his great haunches to spring, "the blight maddens them so the cure is just a change to be fought."

"Hah, a shame they do not have the same placid acceptance of 'fate' as the large one did," Blake couldn't stop himself saying sourly as he gathered some power of the Weave to himself. "Or a shame it did not have the same determination as they do to fight rather than surrender."

Neeshka smiled and drew her rapier to follow up the attack as she recognised what Blake was beginning to chant. Then he stopped and cursed. "Blake?" she asked with some puzzlement.

"We have been to the trouble of curing this grove," Blake growled, "so we don't want to burn these trees, or any others, by having burning Treants stumble into them."

"Perhaps… I can help," said Gann, sounding rather less sure of himself than normal.

Gann looked around at the approaching Treants, at how far they were from other trees and his comrades, and with a slight frown drew on the power of the spirits. Out of the clear sky Lightning struck down and into the Treants, sending bark and smaller branches flying as the electricity heated the sap within them. Gann's expression remained dubious even as he saw the success of his appeal to let the spirits allow him to cast _Call Lightning Storm_.

"Impressive," Blake said, sounding surprised before he chanted and used how the Treants had been staggered back to pepper them with a _Greater Missile Storm_.

"Mmm-hmmm," agreed Okku, sounding less surprised and less sure of there having been any need for magic or strength from spirits other than himself. He charged forward, as the only tactic befitting a god-of-bears, and sprang at one Treant to bowl it over backwards and begin to shred at its trunk with digging motions of his back paws. Wood chips flew.

"So if you can do that then…" asked Neeshka, sliding to one side of a Treant's attempt to swat her into the ground.

"Then why have I not before?" Gann finished, considering his answer as best he could while also trying to not get killed. "Like our fearless leader, but unlike the Druid he took me for at first, my choice of magic is limited."

Blake sheered away the pointed branch fingers on one hand of a Treant as it tried to stab him with those and instead met a sweep of his sword. The Treant howled a little and recoiled and Blake struck a deliberately glancing blow against its trunk to chop away a sliver and weaken it without getting his blade trapped. "And that choice did not seem to please you my friend."

"No," Gann replied simply. He stabbed at the eyes of another Treant and succeeded in dislodging one. The hard sphere of wood clattered against the bark as its weight drew the vine like nerve out of the socket and it dangled and swung on this. Okku took advantage of the Treant's distraction and that its attention was very much on Gann and did his very best attempt at stalking something from behind.

Okku sprang again and Gann barely managed to sidestep as the Treant was knocked down and almost onto him. Okku began rending at the wood of the back of the Treant and Gann tried to help by stabbing his spear at where the branches of the Treant's limbs bent. This was unspectacular compared with what the bear-god was doing but each time the spearhead sank into those branches it spoiled an attempt by the Treant to push off the ground and twist to try to fight back.

Cutting another chunk away from the trunk of the Treant he faced Blake decided to take a chance and swung his sword in a long horizontal arc. For a moment as his sword sank deep into the wood and stuck fast this seemed to have been a mistake. Then as the Treant's weight shifted the cut opened and spread and with a crack any lumberjack would recognise the trunk split, freeing Blake's sword and sending the Treant's upper body crashing to the ground of the Ashenwood. Blake pulled his sword back and raised it into a fencing position, pointing it out in line with his arm and allowing himself to both be ready for the next attack and look down the line of the blade and see if it had been bent at all.

Thankfully it had not and as Okku finished his second kill Blake hurried to join Neeshka. She was running circles around the Treant that had tried to swat her, stabbing it in the sides and rear with her rapier, inflicting small wounds that became painful as the magic of her sword discharged each time. As maddened as this Treant was with the blight it was becoming even more so with the pain and the frustration of being too slow to catch the source of this pain. Its woody eyes fixed on Blake as he clanked towards it and it took a long stride towards this slower looking enemy. Neeshka stabbed at it some more but the Treant was not to be distracted from the thought that perhaps this was a foe he was fast enough to hit.

Blake considered his magic and wished Qara were here. Certainly that would have led to the entire grove being aflame but the Sorceress' self-righteousness would have shielded her from accepting that was a mistake or in any way wrong. At times like this, where restraint made things more difficult, he envied the simplicity of just burning everything and not even bothering to apologise over the ashes later. Discounting his spells Blake moved to use his sword, surprising the Treant with his speed and hacking a great chunk away from the hand reaching down at him.

The impact of the Treant hand moving one way and his sword the other staggered Blake a little but then Okku was there and springing forward. This spring did not meet with the same success as his previous two though as the Treant managed to bring its other hand across in a backhanded slap and sent the bear-god tumbling to one side. A sharp crack of splintering wood accompanied this however as the power of Okku's charge proved greater than the strength of the Treant wood. The limb sagged as it bent where there was no joint and the Treant hesitated a moment.

This was enough for Neeshka. Now the Treant was not moving she slid her rapier back into its scabbard and sprang. Compared with the tower at the Thayan Mage Academy it was incredibly easy to climb the back of a Treant, her boot soles and her strong fingers clinging to the bark as she swarmed upwards. Feeling this the Treant began swaying and twisting to throw her off but Neeshka got a firm grip with her left hand and by wrapping her legs a little around the trunk. She pulled her right arm back a little and then began chopping at what would have been the back the Treant's head with the blade on that forearm bracer. Punching movements to draw the edge of the blade across the wood alternated with downward chops into those grooves to whittle away chunks of wood.

Feeling this the Treant flung itself backwards to try to crush the Tiefling under its weight and branches but before it was halfway to the ground Neeshka had reacted and was already springing away from it. She landed and rolled to absorb the landing and was back onto to her feet before the last of the Treant's branches had finished shaking from its own landing. The Treant began to rise as it realised it had not succeeded but then a weight crushed its crown of branches back into the forest floor. It could just see a glimmer of colour and this with the rumble of satisfaction it heard from there told it the weight was the spirit bear.

Blake jumped and landed on the Treant's trunk as it twisted and turned to try to dislodge Okku or break off and sacrifice the branches he was on. This footing was not certain and Blake swayed for a moment before he stabbed his sword down and back between his feet. The tip of his sword gouged a channel into the bark and Blake did it again and again as if he was carving out a log canoe. This would naturally have been easier with an Adze and if he was carving an unmoving log but soon there was quite a hollow and the Treant stopped moving in death.

"Hrmm," said Blake, hopping down from the carved out corpse and looking around. "Well…at least they are not blighted, so as they rot they will not poison the ground and… er… hollowed out logs do make good homes for little creatures… hrmm."

"Searching for a bright side harbour-boy?" Neeshka smiled at him.

"The fact you," replied Blake, before hurriedly adding, "and Gann and Okku of course, are still alive and uninjured is enough of a bright side. But I dislike killing where I was hoping to cure."

"A feeling I share," Gann commented, "and which answers your ladies earlier question too. And is why did my 'choice' did not please me."

"You prefer to cure or to aid," nodded Blake.

"The spirits _nurtured_ me," Gann said with a rueful smile, "to me that is their nature. To use their power for destruction was never something I favoured even when other Shamans insisted I learn at least a few of those ways."

"I am certainly glad you learned to channel the cold to aid against the Shape of Fire and I envy you in a way," admitted Blake. "The arcane does have its gentler uses but my skills have never lent themselves to healing people and easing their pain, which is something I sometimes regret. My skills do lend themselves though to honouring Helm, acting as a protector, and defending those people to help them have the security and prosperity to afford what medicines they require."

There was a short silence as Gann nodded and Blake thought whether to continue and how to continue. Gann smiled and broke this silence. "I know what else you would say," he said. "You would point out that I have been willing to have the strength of the spirits enhance my own and my fighting with my spear."

"I had thought to say that, yes," Blake admitted.

"Then I shall say what I have said to others," continued Gann, "that to me it is like the difference between asking the spirits for a knife and asking them to stab someone for me. They and I might know the knife is so I can stab, but the knife itself… their gift… is neutral and it is my choice to use it that way."

"That makes sense," Blake replied, frowning slightly, "though the 'someone' is still stabbed either way. I'd ask that if you see an opportunity…"

"Do not worry," Gann interrupted, "it has been more lack of such opportunity than my qualms. We have been in places or situations where the _few_ ways that I know for the spirits to 'stab someone' would _not_ be useful. Old father bear here, for example, tends to be chewing or clawing out the throats of our foes before I could ask the spirits to hurt all in their area."

"Something I did not notice you complaining about at the time," Okku growled.

"Very well," nodded Blake, "your inclination and your talents are to heal rather than hurt. I would rather you use the power the spirits grant you in the way your conscience dictates and rather I had to cast another spell of injury than you be lacking the ability to heal."

"So what now harbour-boy?" Neeshka asked.

"Almost certainly a waste of time," Blake grumbled, "but let us report our successes to that _Witch_ Dalenka."

Neeshka giggled a little at the emphasis her sweetheart had placed on that word as she shared those feelings. The path from the previously blighted grove to the lakeshore and the garrison was not a long one but as they travelled Blake noticed Okku's great head beginning to twitch one way and then the other. The bear-god seemed to be sniffing the air and becoming as close to uneasy as it was possible for him to be. Blake kept walking for a while longer but as Okku remained silent Blake decided to speak.

"Is there a problem my friend?" Blake gently asked.

"No, maybe," replied Okku, frowning as he sniffed again, "the smell of the 'mist' the Hagspawn mentioned seems to be getting stronger. Maybe it is easier to smell now the stench of the blight no longer fills my nostrils, or maybe…"

"Halt! Who goes…" demanded the Berserker guard before relaxing and adding, with a sneer at Blake, "oh, it's you is it?"

"Yes," Okku rumbled, angered by the disrespect and the interruption, "it is _us_!"

"My friend meant no insult mighty god-of-bears," the other Berserker hurried to say, "and we welcome you back to our humble stockade."

"Yes, yes, welcome," said the first Berserker as he felt Okku's baleful yellow eyes fixed on him.

Blake looked at Okku's expression as the Berserkers pushed the gates open and wondered if the bear-god was considering whether flesh of man would take the taste of wood from his mouth. They entered the area enclosed by the stockade and Blake relaxed very slightly as he saw this had not changed much if at all. The buildings still stood, there seemed the same number of Berserkers, and over the pointed tips of the logs opposite he could see the mast-top of the Witchboat so that had not been stolen or sunk. He resolved though to check the supplies for tampering before they left as poison would not affect Okku even if he still ate and he did not trust Dalenka to have not added such to the food and water.

"What was it you were saying?" Blake asked Okku as he noticed Nadaj speaking to a Berserker.

"When?"

Blake gave Okku a glance and then nodded back to Nadaj as she noticed their arrival and nodded to him. "As we were approaching the gate… you thought a second reason why the smell of the 'mist' was getting stronger…" Blake prompted.

"It was a fleeting thought," frowned Okku, "gone like birds at the roar of my anger."

"If those birds settle again my friend," Blake smiled, "then please let me know."

Okku nodded and Blake dropped the subject. There was a temptation to ignore Dalenka and speak only to her subordinate Nadaj, or at least speak to Nadaj first, but both would be near as impolite to Dalenka as she had been to them. That Nadaj was busy speaking with that Berserker did lessen that temptation though the thought still occurred that lingering over removing his shield from his arm, pretending maybe a buckle on a strap was jammed, could take long enough for Nadaj to finish her conversation. With a strong sense of foreboding and that however much Milil blessed him with eloquence it would be useless Blake led the way into the house whose warmth so contrasted with the welcome he expected within.

"I bid you farewell, those days ago," Dalenka said, her voice and expression as cold as before, "yet here you return expectant of help I am not bound to give."

_'Or we could have returned to fulfil good manners and bid you farewell on our way back to our Witchboat, which if you have been out of this cosy nest of yours at all you would have noticed was still there'_ Blake thought before speaking. "Nadaj told me of the problems within the forest and I have solved those she mentioned." Dalenka just stared at Blake so he continued, "The Frost Giants have been slain and a new guardian spirit now protects the Telthor sanctuary…"

"And _what_ poor spirit did you _devour_ to gain its essence that you had one to place in the pool there?" Dalenka snapped.

"None," replied Blake, ignoring the snort of derision. "I aided the ghost of the last High Priest of Myrkul to move on and cease haunting the Furnace of his master."

"I can assure you Madame that the spirit was eased into the rest it deserved," Gann added smoothly, "not devoured, despite it leaving an essence."

"You can assure me," sneered Dalenka, "but that does not mean you are not lying or mistaken."

"In any case, it is secure now," Blake continued, trying to keep his tone reasonable. "Nadaj also mentioned a great fire. The cause of this has been either slain or banished back to the Plane of Fire where he had been imprisoned. There was also a blight but this has been cured thanks to the advice of a huge Treant on the proper ritual and the mercy of Chauntea in responding to this plea."

"And do you expect _gratitude_?" asked Dalenka incredulously.

"I had the hope that as well as blessing us with victory Tymorra might also bless us with that good fortune," Blake said, his diplomacy beginning to fray, "though I knew it unlikely. What I did expect was some lessening of your hostility now I have worked to prove my good intent."

"Why? I knew those problems _spirit-eater_ and I know their cause," replied Dalenka, looking down her nose at Blake despite being near a foot shorter than him. "The Telthor sanctuary would not have been vulnerable if not for you having devoured its guardian. Gnarlthorn would not have suffered the blight if not for you trying and failing to devour him…"

"And if not for a _previous_ spirit-eater," Blake interrupted with some emphasis, "as in the _other_ cases, the tracker would not have been condemned by the Wood Man to the Plane of Fire from which he returned to seek revenge by channelling those flames into the Ashenwood."

"Then _why_ expect me to be less hostile?" said Dalenka condescendingly, further testing Blake's calm. "All you have done is correct the crimes you committed. That does _not_ erase the fact you committed them."

Blake looked at Dalenka for a moment as his jaw and sword-arm tensed. He had gone through a lot of trouble aiding Khelgar with the 'Trial of the Even-Handed' so his friend could learn to judge people fairly as Tyr would require. This Witch though would not have passed as, unlike Khelgar, she was unwilling to look past her first impressions. Unwilling to admit that there was more to Blake than the fact he had been cursed rather than assuming that was all that mattered. Unwilling to look at Blake's actions or consider that perhaps _her_ judgement rather than that of the _God-of-Bears_ trying to aid this curse-bearer was at fault.

"Madame," Blake began, before stopping and shaking his head as he gave up, "no… you are unwilling or unable to make a distinction between previous victims of this curse and myself."

"Why _should_ I with the pain your kind has brought?" sneered Dalenka again, coming close to death. "Your intentions mean _nothing_ against that."

"Maybe not," Blake sighed, his hand quivering slightly as he struggled to keep it away from his sword. "But if I fail due to your lack of aid then on your conscience be it if the next bearer of this curse thinks it a Gift to be revelled in rather than to be cured, and if their intentions bring more pain rather than attempts to avoid it."

Dalenka just bestowed another look of disdain on Blake rather than bothering to reply. Remembering his manners Blake gave the abbreviated bow that was as much as he could manage in this circumstance and walked away and outside. He was too tired and too angry to care anymore whether the others followed him at once or if one of them decided the stone walls of that house needed to be decorated with Dalenka's blood as well as her tapestries and painting. To his vague relief they did seem to have forgone that pleasure, or at least not lingered over it, as they soon joined him.

"Tell me again why we haven't just stabbed her?" Neeshka demanded, to a grunt of agreement from Okku and a small noise that showed even Gann's smooth courtesy had been worn rough by that Witch.

"Because we would have to kill the Berserkers as well," Blake replied, letting some of his anger show in his eyes and voice. "That would be bad both for their sakes and because Nadaj has been helpful and deserves at least _some_ sort of garrison to command. She may also be more receptive of our news."

"She could hardly be less so," commented Gann.

Fortunately Nadaj had finished her talk with the Berserker and seemed to have been watching for them to emerge. She approached with a welcoming smile visible below her half-face mask though Blake noticed this smile did not completely reach what he could see of her eyes through her mask's eyeholes. At least she was making the effort to act the good hostess though and this effort deserved some appreciation.

"What can I do for you?" Nadaj asked, looking around the surly group.

Blake made an effort and smiled back before replying in an almost normal tone, "Though Dalenka was not grateful to hear it we have dealt with the problems in the wood as you asked," he said. "Okku and Gann do feel there is something still amiss though."

"This is the first good news in some time, even if that news is mixed," said Nadaj. "I am greatly relieved that you were able to do this and you have _my_ gratitude if not, as you said, that of Dalenka."

"The Wood Man is worth aiding," Blake politely responded, remembering Gann reminding him of this when he had groused over having to help.

"Indeed, and you must forgive me," replied Nadaj, "but there is one further matter in which I need your aid."

Blake paused, thinking of Captain Brelaina and her ever-increasing list of tasks. "As long as it is _one_ further matter and preferably relevant to my own need to speak to the Wood Man."

"I am sorry, it was not something I could speak of freely to an outsider," Nadaj said, sounding apologetic before her tone changed. "But I see now that you are _true_ to your word and capable of _great_ things. It cannot be coincidence that brought us together."

"Oooh, flattery," commented Neeshka quietly.

Blake nodded slightly to his darling. That had not been subtle and even without Neeshka's prompting he would have doubted the sincerity. "Please," Blake said, finding an excuse for being blunt, "this curse makes me impatient."

"Let me speak plainly then," replied Nadaj, her voice becoming more businesslike again. "My garrison has been betrayed, my Berserkers were sent to their deaths in the forest. It will only be a few more attacks before the garrison falls. This happens because _Dalenka_ wills it."

"Dalenka? I do not think highly of her…" Blake began to say.

"To say the least…" muttered Neeshka.

"But why should she betray her own garrison," continued Blake, "unless you mean through incompetence rather than malice."

"I mean malice. Dalenka is not who she appears to be. She is a Durthan spy, here to weaken Hathran influence on this place."

"And you know this how?" Blake asked after a moment of trying to think without his logic being tainted by his dislike for the older witch.

"It is why I am here," continued Nadaj calmly. "My sisters suspected her and I, an Ethran, was sent because it would be less obvious than having a second Hathran looking over the same garrison."

Blake nodded, that made sense and if Nadaj had been chosen for this task that explained why she seemed so competent and intelligent. They'd have wanted the very best candidate rather than her being a more normal Ethran. Nadaj had seen Blake nodding and had paused but Blake gestured for her to go on.

"For a long time I noticed nothing, then one night I saw her sneak into the forest. She returned every night for a tenday but before I could report this the attacks started."

"What is so special about this garrison that it demands the attention of a spy?" asked Blake, not sure if he was speaking of Dalenka spying on the Hathran or of Nadaj spying on Dalenka.

"The Wood Man is a powerful ally of the Hathrans and a great provider of counsel. Our presence here protects the Ashenwood as much as it does the rest of the land. The Durthans would gain much power if they could freely access the forest."

Again Blake nodded as again that made sense. "So, I take it the 'one further matter' is to prevent this?"

"I do not wish my Berserkers to come to any more harm," replied Nadaj, some sadness in her voice, "but they will do as Dalenka says, this is our law."

"Is there not also a law to relieve her of this command?"

"There is, but that requires the chance to speak," said Nadaj ruefully. "Our Berserkers are swift to obey and to act, so if she says 'kill the traitor' then they might make that attempt. If they die in her defence she will have done what she intended here. The only way to prevent this is to convince them to unite against her. I do not expect them all to join but for what lives you could save in this way I would be grateful."

"_I_ could save?" Blake asked and protested. "Surely it is down to _you_ to convince them. You are a Witch, all be it a junior one, second in command here, and it is you who would be taking command of this place and you who know them personally."

"Just as I have been watching Dalenka so has she watched me," replied Nadaj. "If I were to meet with all of my soldiers she would know. On the other hand you have been wandering freely about our garrison." Blake noticed that Nadaj was already referring to 'her' soldiers and that sounded like the Royal 'Our'. "For you to speak to each of the soldiers would not seem so strange," Nadaj continued, "at least not from one who Dalenka already considers a very strange person."

"Strange enough to be forcing conversation on Berserkers who would be happy to try to kill me?" Blake protested again. "I don't think so."

"This is true," admitted Nadaj, "but of all the things she would be watching you for starting a revolt would not be one of them. Your curse and status as an outsider would make it inconceivable to her that you would be able to influence the loyalty of her troops."

"Not surprising, since it makes it pretty inconceivable to me as well," Blake chuckled, "and you have not explained what, if anything, this has to do with the Wood Man."

"The Wood Man has been weak for a long time now," Nadaj replied. "However his disappearance from the Ashenwood is recent. Whatever Dalenka has been doing in the woods at night this disappearance is tied to it and as long as she is here he will remain hidden."

"Maybe so, but this is still your responsibility and not mine," Blake said, suppressing his tendency to helpfulness. "I will support you if you wish to confront Dalenka, so you may make your accusations without being silenced, but I will not otherwise take sides in this. The Berserkers are yours to command and you should start as you mean to go on."

"You are sure this is how you feel?" asked Nadaj, her tone hardening in disappointment at Blake's words. "I know I ask much but this is the only way we may contact the Wood Man."

Blake smiled despite how old Nadaj was making him feel. As much as he had gone through since the attack on West Harbour there was still a part of him that thought he should be the one being given sage advice rather than the 'old timer' handing it out. It was tempting personally to help her but he'd learned enough from Georg in the West Harbour Militia and from Kana and Katriona at Crossroad Keep to know this would be a bad idea professionally. What authority would Nadaj have if an outsider handed this garrison to her?

"I am sure. Convincing them would be your first test as a commander. If you have evidence let the Berserkers hear it from your lips and make their decision based on their trust in you."

"So be it," said Nadaj, turning away from them. Blake considered some words of encouragement for the difficult task but this was interrupted as Nadaj suddenly shouted. "Berserkers! Behold the source of the attacks! This foreigner has brought blight and fire to the forest, and we have paid for it! Destroy him!"

"What?" Blake said in shock as Nadaj began to run towards the gate for the path to the Ashenwood.

Neeshka sent curses after the fleeing Ethran but Blake needed more concentration than he could spare to send a spell after her. They were being rushed by Berserkers from all sides, the two abandoning their post at the gate, the merchant abandoning his wagon, and two others approaching from near the other building. The only Berserker not charging was the one wearing a wolf-hat and that was because he was rapidly cranking his crossbow instead. It looked like another fight without his helmet on.

Okku roared, shaking the doors of the buildings and shaking the confidence of the shopkeeper whose charge faltered a moment. "You attack a God of Bears? The crows will feast on your entrails!"

"…lying…diseased…goat-fuc…" Neeshka grumbled, her curses winding down as she shrugged her cloak off her shoulders.

"Aye," Blake replied, his voice almost as fast as his magic-enhanced motions as he shoved his tower shield suddenly across in front of Neeshka. Or rather in front of where Neeshka had been a moment ago as she had already moved to dodge the crossbow bolt he was blocking. There was a thump as this hit his shield and then, the tip having barely pierced into the wood, a smaller thump as it fell out and into the snow. "She lied. Unfortunately not about Berserkers and their response to 'kill the traitors' it seems."

"Watch _yourself_ harbour-boy," Neeshka said, peevish with the over-protectiveness and that Blake had turned his back on a Berserker to do it. She continued moving and met that Berserker's attack. The man's face was so purple with rage that Neeshka had the fleeing hope that he would die of anger and save her the trouble. The speed of his blows as he struck with both Longsword and Shortsword was impressive but she was able to dodge and inflict a shallow cut along the back of one of his arms. He barely seemed to feel this in his rage and Neeshka frowned as she saw how close the two Berserkers with even bigger clumsier swords than her harbour boy were getting.

Okku also saw this and charged at one of them, trusting in his own fury to outmatch that of a mere mortal man, but this Berserker's eyes were clear. He moved with skill rather than just power and his Greatsword sliced across Okku's flank as he used the bear-god's momentum against him. Okku rumbled as he felt this surprisingly large wound and felt his spirit form knitting back together. If this man was going to use his wits against him then Okku would return the favour and prove his skill, as well as his strength and anger, was the greater. More cautiously Okku moved back to the attack.

Gann meanwhile had taken advantage of the shopkeeper's reaction to Okku's roar. It had only been a brief hesitation but it had robbed the Rashemeni of some speed and shown he was not as berserk as his comrades were. However, as Gann stabbed his spear out to keep this foe on the defensive, the shopkeeper swung his Morningstar and showed also that he was not to be taken as easy prey. Gann was not sure if his intent had been to batter his spear aside or try to wrap the chain of his weapon around it to yank it from his hands but he barely avoided either.

The other Greatsword armed Berserker had reached where Neeshka was holding her dual-wielding opponent back and away from Blake. The Berserker swung his huge sword in and Neeshka had to dance back out of range. She couldn't parry any blows from that as it would break her rapier or break her shield and the arm beneath and the length of the blade gave the Berserker a longer reach then her. The length of the blade also meant it was nearly impossible to move it as fast as hers though and Neeshka was confident she'd have been able to taunt the Berserker into an attack that she could avoid and which would let her stab him before he could bring his sword back into position. The problem was the other Berserker who was, literally, screaming back in for another flurry of blows against her.

Blake had managed to draw his sword and glanced across to where the Berserker in the wolf-hat had stopped cranking his crossbow for a second shot and had begun to swing his spear off from where it was slung across his back. That man made a tempting target as none of Blake's friends were close enough to him to be endangered by a spell but Blake knew where his attention needed to be. "Be ready to dodge," he called to Neeshka.

She glanced at him as by warning her he had also warned the Berserkers and as much as she appreciated the former she was confident enough in her reactions to think her harbour-boy was being too cautious. However as Blake began to chant and draw on the power of the Weave this did seem to distract the Berserkers a little and so them being warned was not all bad. Neeshka heard the chanting stop and even as the _Fireball_ formed and streaked away from her harbour-boy's hands she was moving.

The fireball exploded between the Berserkers. The one with the Greatsword stepped back a little as his hairs singed a little and some of the damp his leather armour had absorbed from air and wind-borne snow steamed away. He was barely injured but, even with the warning, he needed a moment to recover and blink away his shock. His more frenzied comrade had not been fazed by the fireball exploding almost in his face and had continued on through the flames to keep on attacking Neeshka. This was what Blake had expected though, that they would react differently and this would separate them a little and break their co-ordination.

Shortsword met Bastard Sword with a slight clang as Blake blocked a blow against the slightly off-balance Neeshka with his own larger sword. "Yours," Blake said tersely as the Berserker stumbled backwards to avoid his counterattack. Then Blake nodded at the one with the Greatsword. "Mine."

Neeshka frowned a little. She could see why her harbour-boy was suggesting meeting speed with speed and strength with strength but she was not sure she agreed that was best. Blake was already moving to meet his chosen foe though and the other one had recovered from being staggered so there was no time to protest. With a slight pout Neeshka bounded forward, her rapier licking out in front of her and drawing a snarl from the purple-faced Berserker as he parried.

The shopkeeper retreated another step as Gann's spear stabbed out at him. He swung his Morningstar in a counterblow but the Hagspawn was out of range and showed no inclination to come within it. Gann's mouth tightened with irritation as he pulled his spear back and then sent another unsuccessful thrust at his foe. They were evenly enough matched that Gann had not been able to land a blow but neither had the shopkeeper managed to get past the longer reach of Gann's spear. He was managing to keep this fellow away from the others and the main fight but this was keeping him away as well.

Okku could scent victory on the air. Neither the Greatsword nor his teeth and claws had managed to bite home but the stamina of a bear-god was tireless. There was a fine sheen of sweat appearing on the man's face despite the cool air of the Lake of Tears as Okku kept attacking relentlessly. In some ways it was beneath his dignity to play the wolf snapping at and taunting the deer into exhaustion but Okku had no interest in a dignified defeat. He also had no interest in being stabbed in the side with a spear as he remembered having the Hagspawn hanging off him. As the man in a wolf-hat attacked Okku whirled and swept a great paw, avoiding the blow and causing that attacker to have to dodge. This did give a little respite to his comrade though and Okku rumbled a curse as he realised that he would not be able to press that man as hard while also dealing with the other foe.

Despite his fury making him faster Neeshka had the speed and grace to match this and as she was not in the grip of a Berserker rage she had the advantage of being able to fight smarter. She brought her small shield up at an angle to deflect a longsword blow to one side and then seemed to have not realised how this had exposed her other side to his shortsword as she curved into a rapier thrust. As the Berserker saw this and his shortsword stabbed in towards her Neeshka twisted and dropped her arm so that blade met the blade on her sword-arm bracer. For a moment the two blades ground together, holding their arms still, and Neeshka flicked her wrist and the tip of her rapier barely grazed across the Berserker's face. The smiths Blake had given so much gold to had done work that was as fine as the edge they had created on this blade and even this light contact drew a shallow cut through the Berserker's upper lip and the underside of his nose. This was enough pain to be noticed even through a frenzy and as the Berserker sneezed blood out of his sliced together nostrils Neeshka began pressing him back.

Blake turned and sidestepped as the Greatsword swung down to try to catch him at the juncture of neck and shoulder. The Berserker kept his sword going through the clean miss and used this to help bring his sword curving back up and briefly into a high-guard position before bringing it around in a more horizontal blow. This Blake stepped into and angled his shield so the edge of the sword would meet its face across the whole width at once to spread the power of the blow rather than his shield being more edge on and the sword cutting into it. It was a good shield and especially magically resilient to being cut or slashed so he trusted it to hold. The force of the blow still staggered Blake though as his shield was driven back against him.

However taking that blow had robbed the Greatsword of its momentum and as the Berserker tried to pull his sword back like a woodsman pulling his axe back from a tree Blake pivoted on his near foot and stabbed out with his own slightly smaller sword. This was a hurried blow and Blake was still off balance so it was not perfectly aimed but he managed to connect. The leather armour did not provide much resistance as Blake's sword stabbed off-centre into one side of the Berserker's stomach and as the Berserker's own movement made this slice out of that side. The wound and the magic discharging from Blake's sword as it cut through him was enough that the Berserker collapsed, grabbing at his own side to hold his sliced guts in. Blake hesitated and then decided to take a chance and leave his foe rather than finish him. He would far rather these people died than his friends were injured but if there was a chance he did not want to kill these people.

"Keep back the bear-god," ordered the Berserker in the wolf-hat as he saw his comrade wounded but not dead and the over-armoured foe moving away. With that he began running towards his fallen friend though he had to circle around wide. The Berserker being given that order did not look pleased however to be fighting Okku alone again.

Neeshka's foe was having trouble as the damn Tiefling was pressing him too hard for him to be able to take the few seconds he'd need to shove a rag against his face to sop up the blood. It was nearly impossible to breathe through his nose and, without the rag, there was enough blood coming from there and his upper lip it was hard to breathe through his mouth without also inhaling that. Her rapier parried his shortsword thrust but a forehand horizontal swing with his longsword did make her step back. He brought his longsword backhanded at more neck level so the same twist of his body could allow another shortsword strike, but then in mid-twist he finally choked.

The longsword went wide as he coughed and stumbled, his eyes watering so Neeshka was little more than a blur as she moved. He still managed to stab out with his shortsword but his stumble and her shift in position meant he was stabbing out to one side rather than with how he was moving. Neeshka deflected this blow with her shield, trying to give the Berserker some extra forward momentum as well in the process, and continued moving and turning so she was behind him. Before the Berserker could twist around she stabbed her rapier between his shoulder blades. The tip of this only just protruded out his chest before his stumble became a forward fall and this drew him back off her sword, but it was enough. His heart had been pierced and the magic discharging from the blade had further ruptured it.

Blake skidded to a halt. He'd been coming to aid his sweetheart and now this was unnecessary. Glancing back around he saw the man in the wolf-hat had also been running and then the sound of chanting reached his ears as that man reached the Berserker that Blake had disabled. Something about the chanting was familiar and Blake cursed as he recognised, from experience with Zhjave and Elanee, it as a prayer of healing. Sure enough the fallen Berserker seemed to relax as if pain had left him and then groaned and began to sit up.

"Darling," Blake called, seeing the wolf-hat turn and start to move towards him as the other Berserker began to slowly painfully get up, "help Okku."

"I can't do much…" Neeshka began to protest, but then she saw the look in her harbour-boy's eyes and simply nodded and loped off.

This was annoying, Blake decided. He'd hoped to avoid killing but Neeshka had already killed one and if they had a cleric or someone with at least some healing magic then it was dangerous to just leave them wounded. The two Berserkers, the one that had healed and the one that had been healed, were still close together and Blake concentrated and drew power from the weave and with a muttered incantation managed to catch them both with the same _Horrid Wilting_. The mist and illusionary plants flared up in a circle around them and, as the plants spewed their deadly pollen, leeched at the fluids of their flesh to dry and parch it. The injured Berserker collapsed back to the ground but the healer in the wolf-hat managed to keep his feet, though he staggered. Blake charged to deny him the chance to rally and heal himself or his comrade.

Gann meanwhile was wondering how far he was going to have to chase his opponent. The longer reach of his spear had been driving the shopkeeper back but Gann had been unable to steer this retreat towards any fences or buildings. Eventually he might manage to corner the Rashemeni or he might stumble but until then they seemed locked in this dance of thrust and retreat and thrust and retreat.

Despite her doubts about how much she would be able to do against this foe Neeshka was having fun with the dangerous game of skipping in and out of his reach. Another long sweep from his Greatsword drove her back before she could get close enough to use her rapier but Neeshka just grinned wider at him. The Berserker looked far less happy as he turned and swung at Okku. The bear-god's attacks had slowed but this was to make them more measured and controlled now he had the Tiefling to aid him keep the tempo and the pressure up.

As the bear-god pulled back from his paw-swing the Berserker felt with the instinct of training and experience movement behind him. He brought his sword vertical as he twisted, holding it in front of his body as he turned and deflecting the rapier thrust with a light glancing impact. Letting his sword fall to a more horizontal position the Berserker twisted back and this backhanded sweep forced the Tiefling back but there was a slight thudding of paws as the bear-god charged again. Continuing his turn he tried to change the swing into a thrust and succeeded well enough that his Greatsword sliced along Okku's flank. The wound was long but fairly shallow and not enough to stop Okku as he drove one great paw into the Berserker's side. Spirit-claws of sharpness undulled by wear sliced through leather and flesh as ribs shattered and the Berserker was smashed off his feet. The man had just enough time to tumble to a stop, for the pain of the chunk missing from his side to begin to register, and wonder vaguely where his sword was before his vision filled with teeth as Okku's jaws closed on his face.

Blake met the wolf-hat. The Berserker had hesitated over whether he had time to try another prayer of healing before deciding against it. That might have been a mistake as even with magical haste speeding him Blake was not moving that fast and the Berserker's injuries did seem to slow his spear thrust as he met Blake's charge. With that slowing and Blake's skill Blake was able to step slightly to one side and bring his sword up and into the shaft of the spear. This was quite a light impact so the blade did not dig in, but the spear shaft did slide down the angle of it and into the 'corner' between blade and crossguard.

As the Berserker drew his spear back Blake kept moving forward, turning to slide this 'corner' back along the spear shaft against the direction he and it were moving. Then the spear ran out of shaft as the 'corner' met the spearhead. For a moment the spear was trapped, one end to Blake's right, the shaft passing across in front of him, and the Berserker's lead hand within reach for Blake to punch his shield forward against it. There was a slight crunch as one or more fingers broke between the edge of Blake's shield and where they were wrapped around the hard wood of the spear shaft and the Berserker lost his grip.

He was also losing control of his spear with only one hand on it and one end still trapped. Blake twisted his sword to disengage it and then brought it in a stabbing motion across his body at the Berserker's gut. This blow was avoided as the wolf-hat stumbled back but in some ways it was more a preparation than an attack. Having twisted himself one way with the stabbing motion, and got a little more room by the Berserker stumbling back, Blake swung his sword in a horizontal backhand arc. The Berserker flung his rear hand up, angling the spear shaft down and in front of his body as a barrier. This did block the sword but it was a far more solid impact, with one end braced by the Berserker's hand and the other where the spearhead was knocked into the ground, and nearly cut through the spear shaft.

It would have been better for the Berserker if it had been completely cut through as then he might have had at least a club. As it was the portion of spear shaft he had in his hand was hampered by the front part still dangling from it by splintered wood. Blake made a quick short stabbing movement at the Berserker's calf and managed to move just fast enough that the blade cut in and almost caused the Berserker to fall. Wolf-hat dropped his ruined spear and tried to draw his dagger as he hopped on his good leg to regain his balance a little. This took long enough though for Blake to be able to draw his sword back again and swing it a little to the side to bring it back in with an upward diagonal slice. The blade met the Berserker's waist just below his ribcage. With its magical sharpness and Blake's enhanced strength, and the lack of resistance of leather armour compared with a metal breastplate, it kept on cutting upwards through flesh and bone to almost the middle of the Berserker's chest. Blake pulled his sword straight back, slamming his shield into the fresh corpse to knock it back as it started to come with the blade.

The shopkeeper with the Morningstar was seriously beginning to consider surrendering. He would not have been assigned to the Lake of Tears garrison if he was unwilling to die in defence of his homeland but there _was_ an awful lot of blood and all of it had belonged to friends or allies. Blood on the blades of the enemies, blood staining the snow around the bodies of his friends, and blood around the muzzle of the bear-god where his spirit form had not yet shed it. These thoughts though were enough distraction that Gann finally managed to strike home and bury his spearhead in the centre of the shopkeeper's chest. There was barely a crunch as the tip pierced the breastbone and went on through to briefly appear between the shopkeeper's shoulder blades before Gann pulled his spear back again. As he fell forward and died both the ground and blackness rushed towards the Berserker.

Blake glanced across as the last of the Berserkers slumped to the ground and then looked back at the Berserker he had tried to leave wounded. He walked a little closer to be sure and then his mouth tightened as he saw the healing that man had been given had not been enough to compensate for then being hit by a _Horrid Wilting_. That Berserker was dead like the other four.

"_This_ was not what I wanted," Blake growled, angry with Nadaj for her lies and a little annoyed the others had not even attempted to disable rather than kill, "but maybe this waste of life will count as a valiant fight in defence of their land."

"Hrm," Okku mused. "At least they will have a sanctuary to go to if they do become Telthor, thanks to you little-one."


	10. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Blake looked up from contemplating the corpses and across at Okku. The bear-god was not subtle in his words and Blake knew that any hidden meanings found in what Okku said were more likely only in the mind of the person looking. That had been a rather ambiguous sentence though and Blake was not sure what part of it Okku had meant the 'thanks to you' to refer to. Was it that the Berserkers had a sanctuary to go to as Telthor 'thanks to' the Frost Giants being corpses or was it that the Berserkers might become Telthor 'thanks to' them being corpses? Which killing was it? Them or the Frost Giants? Before Blake could decide whether to ask Okku to clarify his statement there was the sound of a door creaking open and a long indrawn breath. Blake turned and looked at the Witch in the doorway.

"Fiend!" hissed Dalenka as she saw the carnage. "What have you done?"

"Defended myself," Blake replied, calmly but very firmly. "Nadaj wished me to incite a rebellion against you and, despite the temptation to repay your hostility by seeing you dead or imprisoned, I refused. She did not take that refusal well and ordered your men to attack us."

"Their obedience did them credit," rumbled Okku, shedding a little more of the blood from around his muzzle, "if _not_ their sense in attacking a god-of-bears."

"Aye, seems Torm blessed them with loyalty as much as the Red Knight seems to have blessed Nadaj's mutinous plans," Blake nodded, adding as Dalenka continued to look rather than respond, "Madame, if this bloody scene was what I wanted then _you_ would have been my first target. Both for your insults and to deny them your leadership…" Blake paused, thinking _'such as it is'_, and added. "And I'd have put my helmet on before starting the fight…"

"Believe me," said Neeshka, with a smile that was far closer to a shark's than to being friendly as she picked up her cloak and dusted the snow from it. "After you wished death on my harbour-boy I would have been happy to slit your throat in your sleep or poison your food or…"

"Hah-hrmm. Honoured Hathran," Gann interrupted, trying to smile and turn on the charm before Neeshka listed too many methods and despite his spearhead still dripping slightly with Berserker blood, "I assure you that we are all victims here. Us in Nadaj seeking to use us and your unfortunate Berserkers in Nadaj seeking to use them to remove us from this life."

There was a pause and Blake tensed a little as he waited. He was not sure if they had convinced Dalenka and he was not sure if he was hoping that they had or not. Part of him wanted her to give them an excuse to kill her while being able to say truthfully that they had tried to avoid this. Part of him also felt she might deserve death as the decision whether to fight her or not should already have been made. It was hard to judge time while fighting but it did seem, now he had the chance to consider, it had taken long enough and made enough noise that Dalenka should have emerged during rather than after it. Incompetence or cowardice had delayed her so she had not done her duty by either aiding her Berserkers in the fight or, better still, by ordering the fighting to stop and perhaps saving some of their lives.

"Mmm…" nodded Dalenka finally, to Blake's mixed feelings, "do not mistake my words for trust, but what you say corroborates a feeling I have had of late. I fear there is more to it than simple treachery though. Nadaj's last trip into the wood left her… unsettled."

"You fear something inside the forest," Gann asked quickly, "some spirit or power, changed her?"

"I do not know," admitted Dalenka, her arrogance slipping slightly into thoughtfulness. "I sent her there after the first attacks to discover the source of the Ashenwood's anger. She came back distraught, insisting that our Berserkers enter the forest and atone, that our very presence was an affront to the spirits."

Blake nodded. "An order she claimed you gave, and thus she dismantled your garrison."

"Indeed, and of this we may be certain," Dalenka replied, foregoing the usual insults, "something beyond simple ambition possesses that girl to act so against her sisters."

"So perhaps she fled back into the forest to return to the source of what does possess her?"

"Hmm, that reminds me of what I was going to say when we were approaching little one," Okku rumbled suddenly. "That maybe I could smell what overlaid the spirit of the Ashenwood better because we were approaching where that 'mist' was denser."

Dalenka saw Blake turn to Okku and saw his expression. As a foreigner he seemed to not understand that speaking to such as Okku was a gift in itself, and so he had no right to protest that the bear-god had not finished what he was saying before and warned them. He was spirit-eater and accursed and worthy of death but she decided to intervene before he drew mighty Okku's rightful wrath down upon himself. Better that he and the hellspawn's-spawn that seemed to be his paramour, and might defend him, survived long enough be used against Nadaj… though she could hope that they died in the process as one was spirit-eater and the other had insulted and threatened her.

"We must pursue, before she gains fresh strength or can set an ambush."

"Agreed," replied Blake with a curt nod, stabbing his sword into the ground. "I owe these Berserkers that much."

Blake's sword started to tilt, as he had not stabbed it that deep, but it had not fallen over by the time he had, finally, managed to put his hat away and pull up his chainmail hood so he could buckle his helmet on instead. Pulling his sword back out of the soil and shaking a little clump of earth from it Blake moved past the corpses and out the open gates onto the path. Okku rumbled as they left the garrison and there was a slight tensing around Gann's eyes. Even Blake could feel that there was some sort of presence watching them like a predator from the bushes.

There seemed no change in this feeling as they headed deeper back into the Ashenwood and Blake was unsure if this was a good thing or not. The stronger the feeling got then the stronger whatever possessed Nadaj might be. But if these woods were like a body it might be better if the whole of them were not as feverish, if it was more like how the skin became hotter in the area around an infected wound rather than the entire body being sick. As half expected when the path entered the clearing around the great tree they saw Nadaj standing beside it. What was less expected was the aura of light surrounding her and that there was a dead body at the base of the mound on which the tree was rooted.

"Is that…Yurkov?" Blake asked, having to think a moment to remember the name.

"How do you know Yurkov?" demanded Dalenka.

"We aided him against a follower of Malar," Blake replied, taking that as a 'yes it is'.

"Strange I did not hear about this," challenged Dalenka suspiciously.

"Not so strange," Blake replied, finally losing his patience, "after all you could not be _bothered_ to leave your house to aid in attacks against your own garrison so I expect you could not be _bothered_ to hear the reports of your scouts."

"How, how dare you…" spluttered Dalenka.

"Would he have reported to Nadaj," Blake growled, "yes or no?"

"Well, yes, but…" protested Dalenka.

"Then that is why you did not hear about that," Blake said, contempt edging his voice. "Torm blessed your Berserkers with loyalty and obedience, but he does not seem to have blessed you with a sense of duty towards them in return."

As Blake left Dalenka spluttering and led the others across to whatever Nadaj had become he admitted to himself that he was perhaps being unfair. There was the chance that rather than it being dereliction of duty that Dalenka had been trying to give Nadaj responsibility that she could learn from. That rather than Dalenka having disinterest in the fate of her men it had been Nadaj being able to answer all her superior's questions with convincing lies to build a false picture. Of course that would not explain why the first thing they had seen when arriving at the Lake of Tears garrison had been Nadaj fighting blighted creatures and Dalenka not. Blake knew he'd probably relied more on Kana to run Crossroad Keep than Dalenka had relied on Nadaj to run that garrison, but he'd had to travel to forge the alliances and he'd been at the bridges and on the walls and at the gate rather than skulking within the Keep while his Greycloaks fought and died.

"Your tasks here are nearly complete," said the strange voice that came from Nadaj's mouth, the light glowing from her forehead pulsing slightly in time with the words. "We wish to offer our thanks."

"We?" Blake asked simply.

"We," said 'Nadaj'. "We are the outrage, the fury, the vengeance. We are one. Long have we festered, desiring only to protect, yet bound and suppressed by the one who purports to speak for these woods. He has failed, has faded to nothing, now we are all that protects. We are the need, the distress, the suffering."

"You sound in pain, if those emotions dominate, and why send me into the forest if not to restore the Wood Man?"

"We were _threatened_," 'Nadaj' replied hoarsely. "We burned, we wilted, we yielded to parasites. Those same forces that freed us… they encroached upon us. We needed them gone and you obliged, we are grateful."

"Grateful enough to let me speak with Nadaj?" asked Blake. "Whatever _you_ are she _too_ has a right to exist."

"This woman," Gann warned, "she is little more than a shell, a garment worn by the feral instinct of the forest. Ashenwood, I fear, is about to shed this husk and our blood may soon follow."

"We needed a vessel, an instrument, one whose will could be fused to our own," added 'Nadaj', the glow intensifying slightly. "We took the Ethran. We are the protector, we are the land, we are one."

"If you 'took' her rather than her giving herself willingly then release her," Blake said firmly. "Let her choose whether to remain one with you, and supply me the information I require, and I will leave you in peace."

"No!" protested Dalenka. "We _cannot_ leave the Wood Man subsumed beneath this… this… this _malevolence_."

"I must agree, little one," Okku murmured, visibly reluctant that he did have to agree with Dalenka, "this cannot be allowed to continue."

"My concern is for Nadaj…" began Blake.

"And she would want this ended," Dalenka interrupted.

"She would want you to perform one last service," corrected 'Nadaj' calmly. "To remove the remaining threat. To _die_."

With that the glow around the smaller trees and around Nadaj brightened. Blake lunged forward with the sword that was still in his hand but 'Nadaj' did not react as he swept it across at neck height. The glow did not impede Blake's sword but as the decapitated body and the head fell their separate ways to the ground it faded swiftly from around them. Unfortunately the same was not true of the smaller trees where the glow continued to intensify.

"Blast," Blake muttered, stepping back a little away from the corpse and towards his allies. "I was hoping to negotiate. Failing that I was hoping they were close enough bonded that one would follow the other into death."

"You seem _quick_ to deal death," sneered Dalenka, "after all your fine words that Nadaj had a right to exist."

"Be cautious," Gann warned as the glow became yet brighter, "I feel the power gathering around its remaining focuses, something is soon to happen."

Blake nodded absently to Gann, not hearing the words as well as he might have without the interference of his anger at Dalenka and his guilt over having killed Nadaj.

"Of _course_ I am quick to deal death," Blake growled at Dalenka. "Hesitation costs lives. The lives of your allies if you hesitate over beginning to fight. The lives of your foes if you hesitate over ending that fight when they are defeated and surrendering."

Neeshka fought back a giggle at how old and crusty her harbour-boy sounded. A few months in command of a Keep and he was lecturing someone three or four times his age. Then again it had been a very eventful few months and Lord Nasher had chosen well when he sent Kana. Following the Way of Swords had given her a great deal of knowledge and skill and experience but also made her philosophically incapable of trying to supplant rather than train and support Blake.

There was a slight flash in the glow around the smaller trees and Earth Elementals, Shambling Mounds, and Treants faded into existence around them and by the great tree like paintings on glass becoming more opaque. Gann glanced at these and then stabbed his spear into the ground before picking up Yurkov's Dwarven Waraxe. The shaft was not much thicker than that of his spear but the weight of the axehead compared with the relatively small spearhead made it feel clumsy to him. Even so Gann felt better with that in his hand as generations of woodcutters, some of whose daughters he had known, had proven an axe was a good weapon when 'fighting' trees. And to be respected by Hagspawns when being chased by angry fathers.

"Surprised you can use that," commented Blake with a nod. "Looks Dwarven and I know how awkward their axes can feel."

"There was, of course, a lady," Gann smiled back, "and she taught a young… innocent… Hagspawn a great many things."

Ignoring Neeshka's snort of derision at the idea that Gann was ever innocent Blake considered and rejected trying to get their backs to the great tree. There was little chance of forming a defensive line, especially with Gann swinging an axe around, and against foes of this size it would be better to have the room to dodge. In any case that position would leave them surrounded by the four smaller trees.

"Back a little."

"I _will_ not retreat!" roared Okku, ignoring Blake and annoying him as he sprang forward at the nearest Treant.

The Treant swung the pointed fingers of its branch hand at the charging bear-god but too slow. Okku was within the swing almost before the Treant had begun it and his great haunches drove him upwards. He twisted and used the momentum of his charge to aid him in ripping one great paw across the front of the Treant's trunk. Wood splintered and tore and sprayed in pieces nearly small enough to be placed in a paper-mill's pulping vat. The Treant staggered back, bending where it should not as the remaining thickness of its trunk took the strain of the impact and the weight of the Treant's own crown of leaves and branches.

With a slight curse Blake saw the Earth Elemental lumbering towards Okku as the bear-god continued to tear at the Treant. Summoning the power of the weave Blake muttered an invocation and sent a _Vitriolic Sphere_ arcing across to burst over the Elemental and burn into it. The Elemental paused a moment in surprise before its near mindless determination sent it back into motion to attack Okku's vulnerable back. Bubbling channels etched themselves into the rocks of the Elemental as it moved but these did not hamper it as much as when the acid reached the soil between the rocks and soaked in. Smoke and steam came from the Elemental's joints as the damp earth that lubricated them dried out in reaction with the acid and it suddenly had the equivalent of arthritis.

That it was painful to move did not stop it, but did reduce the power of the two-armed blow it drove down onto Okku's back as the bear-god finished dismembering the stricken Treant. Spirit flesh rippled and deformed under an impact that would have crushed the ribs and spine of any bear of flesh and even Okku was stunned. But then Blake was there and, with the stray thought that a mining pick might have been more suitable, he drove his sword into the joint of the Elemental's waist. With the strength of his magic and his belt and his well-trained muscles Blake dragged his sword across, magic discharging from it and disrupting the magic that kept the Elemental intact.

There was a sound like a tiny avalanche as the upper half of the Elemental lost contact with the lower half and the rocks of it fell apart with the dissipation of the animating spirit. Okku wheezed and turned to look as the Treant he had slain began to shimmer. The little-one had done fine work there but was retreating again. Okku pondered a moment whether to follow. Being attacked from the rear had drawn memories of the tales told him by wolves and deer, of the latter trying to not let the former encircle them and trying to move so all the pack were attacking from the same direction. It did not behove a god-of-bears to act like a deer, and Okku was confident Blake would not abandon an ally, but at the same time moving back a little made sense if you were a mortal and needed such subtlety.

"Are these real?" Blake frowned as the Earth Elemental he'd destroyed shimmered and vanished and another appeared to replace it.

"Real enough harbour-boy," replied Neeshka, dancing to one side of a Shambling Mound's hand as it tried to swat her down into the ground.

Gann swung the Waraxe he had appropriated, carefully making it a glancing blow to slice a gouge without trapping the axehead in his victim. "Real enough… yes. Completely real…no."

"Huh?"

"They are expressions of the Ashenwood's rage," Dalenka said, happy to demonstrate her greater knowledge to the impudent Tiefling, "illusions given solidity."

"But not solidity enough," rumbled Okku as he sprang at the Shambling Mound that Gann had wounded.

As small fragments of leaf and stem flew in all directions from where Okku was tearing the Mound apart with ease Blake nodded. There were spells that did a similar thing so Dalenka was probably right, and Okku was definitely right that these 'illusions' were not as solid as real Treants or Earth Elementals or Shambling Mounds. Unfortunately even if they were easier to slay than the blighted creatures they were being replaced as more faded into existence. The slight retreat meant they were all coming from the same direction but, though that helped with not being outflanked, Blake was unsure if he could use how that made them a better target for spells. The Elementals would not burn and even if the Treants and Shambling Mounds would that would risk setting fire to the Great Tree as well if they strode or shambled in the wrong direction.

Gann carefully watched a Treant as it approached and then as it began a stride he half-jogged forward and swung the Waraxe to bury its head deep into the Treant's trunk. As with Blake's sword against the real Treant earlier the blade stuck fast but, as with that real Treant, there was a cracking noise as the slice Gann had made at just the right point on its trunk at just the right time of its stride widened and grew. The semi-illusionary Treant split in two, freeing the axehead as it fell and began to fade.

Neeshka pouted a little as she saw Gann's success. It was all right for him with that axe he had grabbed and was all right for Okku with his huge claws, but she and her rapier were both more delicate. Her harbour-boy was meeting another Earth Elemental though so Neeshka quickly regained her place at his side. The great rock that formed one forearm swung at Blake and he ducked and struck sparks and chips off that rock with his counterattack. Neeshka did not approve of it trying to squash her sweetheart and stabbed, her speed letting her plunge her rapier into the Elemental's 'elbow' and withdraw it before the slim blade became trapped by the shifting rocks.

The Elemental's forearm drooped as the magic of Neeshka's sword disrupted the magic that was supporting them. Blake took advantage of it being distracted by this and swung his sword diagonally downwards, slicing his heavier sword through the soil of a 'knee' and lopping off the leg at that point. The Elemental tumbled to the ground in a jumble of boulders and soil and Neeshka took a chance and stabbed it in the face, hoping it would react to this in the same way as a creature of flesh would. It did not seem as bothered by this as most things, but it did convulse as the magic on her sword discharged and then Blake shoved his sword through what would be its neck and that seemed to finish it.

However even as this Elemental faded away another was fading in. The Mound that Okku had shredded and the Treant Gann had more neatly bisected had also both been replaced. Gann glanced at the Earth Elemental approaching him and then swung his Dwarven Waraxe again. Unfortunately although he was getting more used to the weight he was not yet completely used to it and there was a clang as the axehead glanced off the rock of a thigh rather than meeting the knee Gann was aiming for. Okku was close though and, with a roar, he sprang and bore the Elemental down. His claws were for fighting rather than digging but they still sufficed to get a grip into the crack between two of the rocks that made up the Elemental's chest. With one flex of his great shoulders Okku sent the two massive boulders bouncing in opposite directions as they left a hole behind them too large for the Elemental to survive.

"There seems no end of them…" breathed Gann as he saw that Elemental fade and be replaced.

"My claws do not dull, little one," Okku rumbled, "and with the energy of this wood to sustain me I do not tire. But this is still becoming tedious the more we slay."

Pointed branch-fingers daggered down towards Dalenka's unarmoured flesh but, despite the serious temptation, Blake moved. His sword flashed up to meet the descending arm and even had this been true Treant wood rather than a weaker illusion of such the result would have been the same. Magic imbued metal sliced though the wrist and the Treant howled like wind through the reeds as its hand parted company from its arm. Dalenka frowned under her half-face mask as this attack made it clear she would not be allowed to remain a bystander watching and hoping both sides would destroy each other. With some irritation she gathered power from the weave and chanted to release it in a spell of _Disintegrate_. The beam was well aimed and burned deep as it struck the Treant just below the knobbly protrusion that gave the appearance of a nose. Magic energy rippled out from the impact, wrenching at the illusionary substance and tearing it apart as the magic passed through it.

Blake allowed himself to look impressed as the Treant faded, though he was not sure if Dalenka had managed to completely disintegrate it or whether it had faded in 'death' like the others had. Theoretically he knew that if you killed something with that spell you should be left only with dust, but he rarely used the spell and not against foes weak enough to be killed by it alone. He did remember the fight in the dreamscape though, where his breastplate had been disintegrated, and was glad they had not needed to fight Dalenka as it looked there would have been the risk of losing his armour in reality as he had in that dream.

Neeshka grinned at Blake as she avoided an Earth Elemental's clumsy attempt to crush her and then stabbed it in the knee. "An endless stream of enemies coming for our blood… seem familiar harbour-boy?"

"That's it!" Blake said, pausing a moment in surprise and annoyance with himself. "You are brilliant!"

"I am?" asked Neeshka, before recovering and adding. "I mean… of _course_ I am… why?"

"Those smaller versions of the King of Shadows were coming from the statues," Blake replied as he moved to stab at the waist of the Elemental Neeshka had hobbled, "and we'd have saved some time if we'd destroyed those statues then rather than when the large King of Shadows came back again."

"Yeah! I mean…" said Neeshka, managing to almost sound convincing, "did it take _you_ that long to realise that?"

"I did say the power was gathering around the smaller trees," commented Gann mildly, "that those were where the power was being focussed."

"So you did," Blake said, stabbing his sword through the soil of the Elemental's waist and cutting deep enough that it fell, "my apologies, my friend."

"No harm done," replied Gann, putting another gouge into a Treant's trunk and noting with satisfaction this was one gouge too many, "this time at least."

As cracks spread across the trunk of Gann's opponent from the gouges he had inflicted Blake glanced about to measure distances to trees and distances to enemies and then began the closest he could come to a sprint in full armour. This was actually quite close thanks to his belt of strength making his armour less burden than even Mithril was in that quantity and thanks to the spell of Haste he had learned to make persist all day. Okku rumbled and charged parallel to Blake to protect his flank as he ran and protect him as he did whatever he needed to do to this tree.

"Wait," Gann cried, hurriedly following as behind him the Treant began to fade away. With a frown Blake paused, his sword brought back a little for a strike and noting that Neeshka and Dalenka had needed to also follow now Gann had moved. "Let me," Gann added, flourishing the Waraxe a little.

It did not much matter to Blake who did this so he nodded though he felt a little puzzled. This tree was quite small so it seemed his sword could cut through it with as much ease as Gann's Waraxe, or as much ease as his sword had been cutting through Treants. As Gann approached Blake moved a little away from the smaller tree with Neeshka joining him on that flank. Okku murmured at the delay and bared some teeth at enemies too stupid to be intimidated while Dalenka placed herself so Okku was between her and them. For a moment the Witch seemed to have returned to trying to avoid fighting but then she chanted a little and proved Okku was not so much between her and the foe that she was unable to see to cast spells past him. A _Greater Missile Storm_ pelted the oncoming enemies.

Gann looked at the tree for a moment, visibly considering and studying it, and then swung the Waraxe down in a small controlled arc. Blake glanced over his shoulder at the sound of metal biting into wood and for a moment wondered what Gann was doing. That was a very small chunk to cut out of the tree compared with how Blake had smashed the statues of Illefarn and it did not seem to have had any effect. Then light burst from the tree and washed past them as the glow that had been clinging to it exploded outwards and faded away.

"There," Gann said with satisfaction, "we could just hack the tree straight through, but a precise cut can be enough at times to slay a foe… or release an infection."

"I keep on telling him that," smiled Neeshka, winking to Blake, "him and his clumsy great lumps of metal."

The Treants, Mounds, and Elementals had paused as the light passed them and as the spirit creating and controlling them lost one of its focuses, but now they started shuffling forward again. Another _Greater Missile Storm_ from Dalenka flurried magical missiles against them and small chips of rock and a few leaves and branches broke free under the impacts. Blake looked at them and their approach and gestured to the others.

"Back a little, keep them in front of us, keep a line, three more to go…"

Okku almost chuckled as the mortal played the games his lack of divine power required. He knew they had the power to simply attack. He suspected Blake knew they had the power to simply attack. As Okku moved to keep his position relative to the others he decided it was fortunate for the little-one that rage at the enemies had been replaced by amusement at the antics of his allies. There was only so far across a clearing though that even this amusement would take a god-of-bears so Okku hoped that Blake was not assuming too much of his tolerance.

As the 'illusions' moved out into the clearing, between the still glowing smaller tree and the one whose aura had been dispersed, they clumped together a little in their advance. No drill sergeant would regard that as a line rather than a mess but as these were all creations of the same will Blake was not going to assume their attacks would be as ill coordinated as their formation. He began to mutter an invocation and was almost distracted as he thought he heard an echo. Then as he completed the spell and the mist of a _Horrid Wilting_ billowed up from the forest floor he saw the echo had been Dalenka casting the same spell. The two areas of mist overlapped and as the strange illusionary plants spewed they doubly drained the fluid from the unfortunate Treant in the centre. The surviving enemies staggered as that Treant fell and faded and rock began to grate on rock. Although the elemental was nowhere near as vulnerable as its plant allies it did now have dry rather than moistly lubricating mud in its joints.

Blake saw a chance. "Gann, now… Okku, with me."

With that Blake charged to attack before the enemies could recover and Okku very happily followed as finally the little-one used a tactic worthy of the dignity of a bear-god. Neeshka was less happy as she was sure her harbour-boy had enough spells to continue killing these things from safely out of their reach, but with a sigh that mingled annoyance and fondness she followed to guard his back. Dalenka frowned and stayed where she was as physical combat was the work of Berserkers and no business of a Witch.

Okku chose to attack the elemental before it could recover what little speed it had. Sensing the bear-god with whatever it used for eyes it tried to swing one arthritic rock-fist but even had it been moving as fast as it could normally that would still have been too slow. Okku's great paw slammed into its waist as he dismissed the idea of trying to merely wound it and avoid it being replaced, in destruction, by one not suffering the effects of those wounds or the _Horrid Wilting_. With a grating noise that dwarfed those that had been created by its own movements the upper half of the elemental slid sideways under the impact and parted company with the lower. As the rocks came apart and bounced slightly across the ground they also began to fade.

Snow flurried from Gann's footsteps as he rushed at the second tree. He hoped that he would not see another foe fade into existence before he got there. Behind him he heard the snarl of the bear-god and the solid thunk of Blake's sword slicing through wood and he knew that with such powerful allies they might soon destroy a foe that would be replaced from this focus of power. Sure enough as Gann skidded to a halt and let his sense of the spirits show him where on the trunk the focus lay something began to become opaque. Ignoring this Gann took a calming breath and sliced his Waraxe across the wood to sever the physical channels through which the spirit power was flowing. Another burst of light erupted and out across the clearing.

"Two to go," Gann said with a smile as the thing that had been fading in faded away again.

"Aye," Blake growled, sending another hunk of Treant wood thudding to the ground. This one had come close to hitting Neeshka and he'd had the excuse of not wanting to finish it too fast in case it had been created and would be replaced by the tree Gann was attacking. That excuse was over though so Blake sent a more solid blow arcing into the trunk rather than continue to cut it apart slowly for nearly hurting the woman he loved.

The Treant staggered and bent as its trunk weakened from the cut. Okku had moved to join the little-one and now reared onto his hind legs, snapped his jaws up at a branch of the Treant's crown that had dropped to within his reach, and let his weight drag that branch down. This extra weight was too much for the Treant's weakened trunk as its root-foot dug into the soil and its lower half remained firmly upright. There was a snap and then a roar of annoyance as Okku found himself under the Treant's upper half he had pulled down onto himself. Then this upper half flew up into the air as Okku threw it aside, knocking over the lower half that had still been standing at an angle, before both halves faded out of existence.

Blake gestured for the others to form a line on that alignment. "I know you know how to circle prey, my friend," Blake commented, seeing Okku was looking reluctant "I remember you circling me."

"Yes," Okku rumbled back, "and I recall you circling me in my barrow and at Mulsantir. But are these worthy of such trouble?"

"Hmmm, maybe not, or not worthy of as much trouble now their numbers are less."

Okku nodded; he knew Blake was being cautious out of fear for his mate, and that was a fine motive, but Okku's oath was to end the curse and even his own life meant nothing compared with fulfilling this. They were all dispensable to that goal but the more concern Blake showed for his friends, and especially for Neeshka, the more concerned Okku was that Blake disagreed with this. That he would not sacrifice them as Okku would to end the curse.

They did not retreat as far as before since they did not need to. A Shambling Mound fell to Okku disdaining subtlety and simply tearing his claws across back of one 'calf' and ripping great strands of foliage free with the impact. There was a thud like a bale of hay falling from a barn loft as a chunk of the Mound flew a short distance and rolled a little way through the snow. Blake swung his sword down and to his side and sliced the edge across the fallen Mound's neck. His blade sliced deep through the stems as its magic discharged and the Shambling Mound began to fade.

Blake glanced at the remaining enemies and grunted as he saw a replacement Mound fading into existence near one tree. A beam of _Disintegrate _hissed across and into a Treant that was preparing to strike at Okku. This time Dalenka did not manage to kill her target despite the huge chunk it lost from its trunk to her spell. Okku whirled in his own body length and swept his paw in a similar blow as before. There was a splintering crunch as his claws ripped another chunk from the Treant and it fell. This began to fade and Blake smiled as he saw a form taking shape near the nearest of the smaller trees.

"There," Blake said, pointing, "that one fading in by that tree… Neeshka, my sweet, try to taunt it away and distract it from Gann while Okku and I keep the others back and Gann tries to look inconspicuous."

"A hard task for one who often draws so much attention" smiled Gann, "though I expect these creatures of wood and rock do not think my looks as striking as this axe has been."

Neeshka gave Blake a dubious look before she sprang forward, her lithe legs carrying her to the tree where she began flicking her rapier at the Mound even before it had finished fading into existence. Tiny painful cuts sliced away at its thin stems, each one with a measure of magic discharging into it, and it howled slightly and took a long stamping stride towards the Tiefling tormenting it. Neeshka easily dodged and took the chance to inflict a few more wounds on that leg before having to hop back and away from the fist falling towards her like a soggy green haystack.

Meanwhile Okku had decided to interpret 'keep the others back' as rend them into fragments faster than they could be replaced. His blood would be singing in his veins if he had either rather than a form of spirit energy. He still had a throat though to roar his defiance of the 'mist' subsuming the spirit of the Wood Man and claws to tear apart the illusions of its servants. Okku pounced and the Treant staggered backwards from the impact and then forward from the weight as it found a bear-god's claws sinking into the front of its trunk. Okku's spirit-muscles flexed and he tore those claws free, shredding bark and landing back onto his rear legs and then onto all fours before almost bouncing back upright into a classic bear-smash. More bark and the living wood it was supposed to protect shredded into pulp under Okku's claws.

Blake had a little more trouble as though he was confident his sword was tougher than the rock of this Elemental he was still reluctant to meet one with the other and this Elemental was being cautious. There was the chance that this Elemental had the memories of the others and had learned from the previous experiences that it should make it difficult to strike at its joints. Blake considered what he could do that would be more unexpected and whether he needed to do anything. The caution the Elemental was showing meant it was not helping the Treant against Okku and meant Blake was keeping it occupied and that was all that was required for now.

The Mound was striding after Neeshka who almost distracted herself with the giggles as she realised she had thought of it as shambling along and realised that a creature with that name would hardly do anything else. She darted in and sliced again at one side of it; cutting through more of the stems so the severed ends sagged and bobbed as the Shambling Mound walked and it began to look fluffy with those sticking out of it. Gann nodded and continued to circle in and closer to that Treant's mother-tree. Then a _Scintillating Sphere_ flashed across the clearing and into the Earth Elemental Blake was fighting. Electricity arced through it, heating the rock and causing it to crack as different parts expanded by different amounts.

Being a creature of rock and mud rather than flesh it had no muscles to cramp and convulse as the electricity passed through them. Unfortunately Blake did and, though the edge of the sphere's effects only just reached him and much of it conducted through his armour, he grunted in surprise and staggered as one thigh muscle twitched. Neeshka's pretty smile turned into a snarl as she saw her harbour-boy be hurt and she took a few quick bounding steps towards Dalenka before she controlled the urge to go and stab her. The Mound moved to try to attack Neeshka, but paused as freed of the distraction of being stabbed it was able to think and have a moment to look around.

With some annoyance Gann saw the deep-set eyes of the Mound fix on him and it ponderously turn and begin striding back towards him. Gann rushed forward towards the small tree as the Mound also began to pick up speed and as Neeshka realised what was happening and began chasing it. It looked faintly ridiculous her chasing it but less so if you had seen a stoat chasing and killing a rabbit a dozen times its size. As with the stoat and rabbit though the Mound would be able to inflict serious wounds if Neeshka was not fast enough to dodge and this need for caution delayed her.

One huge hand swung to crush Gann but he was close enough to the small tree for that to hamper the Mound's swing. There was the temptation to return the attack but instead Gann flicked the Waraxe down in a short chop through the genius loci. The Mound staggered as the light burst away from the tree past it. Neeshka had managed to catch up and while it was off-balance stabbed it a few times. Gann though used this to retreat a little. "That way, please," Gann said, gesturing as he caught Neeshka's eye, "and then be ready to get clear, if you could be so kind."

Neeshka nodded, amused at how automatic it was for Gann to add the polite phrases, but before she retreated she stabbed the Mound once more for luck and to keep its attention. The Mound shambled one long stride after her, and then another, and then a third. Gann decided this was far enough away from the small tree. He began to appeal to the spirits and Neeshka rushed off to one side as she had been warned to do. A _Burst of Glacial Wrath_ enveloped the Mound as Gann took the chance they would not need any other favour of comparable power before the end of the day. Ice suddenly coated the stems of the Shambling Mound and as they froze and became brittle they also began to break under the strain of the Mound's movements.

Gann charged and swung his axe into the mass of foliage. Even for a Mound its reaction to this was slow; seeing this Neeshka rushed in close enough to use the thicker blade on her bracer rather than her rapier. That would have been dangerously close before but as the two of them chopped at the Mound and began whittling it away its cold dulled movements left it unable to defend itself. There was a sound like a team of busy gardeners and the Mound writhed as it felt itself dying.

With a rumble Okku shook a few chunks of wood from between his toes and felt glad that the small pieces faded out like the rest of the enemy. His spirit-form might reject splinters but he was glad to not have to wait for the healing to push them out again. There was another Treant fading in though as this fallen one faded out and glancing across he saw the little-one had also been victorious with a foe fading away. Blake and Okku's eyes met and then nodded in mutual respect.

"Great Tree is close, and there will be a replacement Elemental soon…"

"No!" Gann called, chopping another chunk from the beleaguered Mound. "We should attack the final small tree. I feel that the genius loci of the Great Tree will be as tough as the Great Tree itself compared with these near saplings."

Blake nodded and began falling back to rejoin Neeshka and Gann. Okku noted this but his pride did not let him retreat as far. Instead he stayed closer to the Great Tree so that he did not have the indignity of retreat and would meet the Elemental fading in from there and shield the little-ones with his might. The Mound Gann and Neeshka were fighting finally fell and had the release of fading away and not being replaced. Blake looked at the Elemental that had appeared and Okku holding position to meet it and looked at the Treant that was approaching from the fourth of the smaller trees.

"Hells with it," said Blake, one corner of his mouth quirking, "let us learn from our colourful comrade…"

"What?" Gann began to ask, but Blake was already beginning an invocation.

A _Vitriolic Sphere_ burst from Blake's hand and arced across to drench the Treant in acid. Leaves browned and blackened and a crater was carved into the trunk where the sphere struck. Steam and smoke rose from the Treant as the thicker acid that clung continued to rot away at its wood and weaken it. The Treant gouged at itself as it tried to rip away the bark and wood that was being eaten slowly and painfully away by this.

"How is that learning from…"

"Charge!" Blake cried, answering the question and beginning to run and suit actions to words.

"Oh, charge," muttered Gann, wondering if Blake really needed to learn that from Okku.

Neeshka shrugged to Gann and followed her harbour-boy. Gann was less sanguine about this as a tactic but after a split-moment also followed. The three of them quickly reached the wounded Treant. It barely managed to swing one blow towards them through its pain before Gann and Blake struck almost in unison, carving chunks from the Treant's flanks as they passed to either side of it. Before the Treant could turn they were chopping at the rear of its trunk as if they were woodcutters that had worked together for years. As each swung his weapon back for the next blow the other's weapon was biting into Treant wood.

Under this assault the wound in the trunk widened rapidly and as it did the remaining wood was soon not enough to hold the Treant's upper trunk and crown of branches aloft. Blake and Gann did not pause to savour the victory. Even as the Treant's trunk snapped across and there was the crash of its branches hitting the ground they were back in motion and rushing on after Neeshka towards the smaller tree from which this had appeared. She'd seen they had the situation under control and had continued on to be ready to start stabbing and luring the fresh Treant away from its mother tree.

Okku meanwhile was happy as he had a new Earth Elemental to play with. His claws gouged channels into the rock and staggered the Elemental back and he took this chance to glance over his great shoulder. "I am not as forgiving as the little one."

Dalenka nodded and decided to hold her spells back as the bear-god went back to dismantling his enemy with an intimidating level of power and speed.

Blake looked to where the Treant had just finished fading from sight and nodded to Gann, who returned the nod with a smile and swept his Waraxe down. The edge cut a precise shallow groove through the wood and though the genius loci that Gann being attuned to the spirits let him 'see'. The aura of light around the small tree quivered for a moment before condensing down around the groove and then exploding out and dissipating. The ground shook slightly as this wave of light passed and Okku grumbled as the Earth Elemental staggered a little and away from his claws.

This was actually better luck than Okku would think as now they were this close to victory Blake did not want a fresh Elemental appearing and the respite the Earth Elemental had from Okku's attack was enough for Gann to reach the Great Tree. Glancing at this and then back over his shoulder Gann sighed in thought. "Strike where I strike," Gann reluctantly said.

Blake nodded and, as they had on the unfortunate Treant, the pair set to work and began cutting into the Great Tree. This was a race between them and Okku's impatience to finish off the Earth Elemental but as precise gouge after gouge was made they managed to win. Brilliant light that made the previous eruptions seem like candles behind smoked glass blazed out and away from the Great Tree as tremors rippled though the clearing and shook the leaves on the smaller trees. Okku snarled as his toy was snatched away from him and the Earth Elemental faded.

The light continued to pulse and with each pulse the aura of light around the Great Tree seemed to become thicker, though no brighter, and Blake could see something was gathering its strength. He glanced at Gann who gave him a broad smile and nod and lowered the head of his Waraxe to the ground to show he thought there was nothing they needed to fight. Blake hoped Gann was right as with one last pulse the light condensed into a huge Spirit-Treant that looked to be able to shrug off the effects of their spells or weapons. There was something about its eyes though. The Treants that had been maddened by the blight had only rage in their eyes and the ones created from the smaller trees had eyes that had been empty of even that. These eyes though had a savage awareness shining from them and an impression of age and wisdom in their lustre.

"It is _him_…" Okku rumbled, his voice quiet in respect and a degree of awe.

As if that was the signal the trees rustled in a sudden wind that passed across them like the forest itself was exhaling. Small noises began to be heard as the unnatural silence broke and the Ashenwood seemed to come alive with those sounds of life. The great mouth of the Wood Man opened and it seemed like fresh vitality flowed out from it and into the surrounding woods as they yet further recovered. Blake considered the Wood Man a little more and decided on politeness. He bowed in respect, but only in respect and only from the waist rather than go down on one knee.

"This one's moods shift like the winds, even more so than mine…" Okku murmured, "a humble approach is best."

Blake's eyes flicked towards Okku as he tried to decide if the bear-god was approving of the bow or disapproving that Blake was still standing rather than having prostrated himself. This murmur seemed to draw the attention of the Wood Man away from the Ashenwood and to the creatures of flesh and spirit standing before him and he recoiled. The wind across the treetops faltered a moment as if the Great Spirit was drawing strength back rather than sharing it outwards and its huge eyes flashed as if in memory of pain.

"Will you always be here when I wake, devourer of souls?" demanded the Wood Man in a voice that echoed like organ notes in a Grand Temple. "Gorge on my life a hundred times and you will never be sated… nor will I ever die while the forest persists."

"We have never met," Blake pointed out, straightening from his bow.

"The face changes… the hunger remains the same," replied the Wood Man. "Why did you slay the parasite and call me forth if not to feast once again?"

Blake paused a moment in irritation as it became clear the Wood Man was seeing the curse rather than him. It had called him 'devourer of souls' and now accused him, despite his aid and the presence of Okku, of seeking to feast on it. He was irritated enough that the fleeting thought that enough fire and poison would stop the forest persisting and allow the Wood Man to die passed through his mind. "Sheva Whitefeather sent me here, to speak with you and to seek a cure for this curse."

"You still do not understand what you are," the Wood Man responded. "Neither did those other faces, which hid the same hunger that you bear. They called it a gift, you think it a curse, it is neither."

"Then explain, please, as understanding is what I seek here," said Blake, a little tersely. "If this hunger is neither gift or curse then what?"

"It is your _nature_," the Wood Man answered. "Hunger is what you _are_. You were not always thus, how your nature changed is not known to me, but yet I sense a wrathful touch upon your soul…the touch of a _god_… a god who is _dead_."

Blake nodded at this. "That would fit with what the shaman Nak'kai said and what else I have learned," he said, providing more information in return than he had been given. "This curse seems to be the work of Myrkul, his retribution upon his priest Akachi for his rebellion, and Myrkul was wrathful and is now dead. And how my nature changed was being kidnapped and placed in the chamber where Okku had trapped this hunger with the help of the previous host."

"I do not know if Myrkul it was," replied the Wood Man. "It is an unfamiliar god, a stranger to the Forest. Chauntea, Mielikki, Lurue… these are the gods I knew in their youth and their wrath is different in kind."

"Very well," Blake said, trying to convince himself that having it further suggested to be Myrkul was worth the days of travelling and solving problems and the blood they had spilt. Still there might be other insights to be found here so after a moment Blake continued, "The witches and others have spoken of you having fought spirit-eaters before. What do you remember of them?"

"Your hunger has but one face at a time," the Wood Man said, continuing to confirm what they already knew. "That face may change but always there is only one and always the faces perish. The more they eat the more they must eat and the hunger devours them, burns them from inside, and passes to a new face. The face that stands before me will _also_ be consumed."

After restraining an initial response that had some degree of profanity Blake managed to reply more politely. "A fate I keep on being told is inescapable, and yet I am not giving up. Do you have any advice on how I might fight this?"

"You cannot defeat your own nature, you must be what you are, and in being you must finally succumb," said the Wood Man. "To change your nature, to return to what you once were… most such changes are impossible. Burn a forest to ash and you can only plant anew."

"Burn a forest to ash and the seeds protected from the flames beneath the soil sprout," Blake replied, impatient with the pessimism and not mentioning that this would be why it would need poison as well. "However barren the fire's hunger seems to have left the landscape there is still rich soil and the underlying strength."

"The fire of your curse will not leave any seeds buried," warned the Wood Man, "nor will the soil still be fertile for regrowth. It will consume _everything_."

"You have not been as helpful as I hoped," Blake said with a frown, ignoring Dalenka's hiss of indrawn breath at his impudence. "I was hoping for advice on ways to solve the problem rather than yet more warnings of Okku's oath being impossible to fulfil and my fate being certain. But having it confirmed the curse is the work of a dead god is worth some gratitude."

"You will speak to the Wood Man with respect!" demanded Dalenka.

"_You_ will speak to my ally with respect," Okku growled.

"I think you are _wrong_," said Blake, continuing to address the Wood Man while concentrating and crushing the curse to his will. "I think this hunger will end with me but if you are right then to fight or advise the next host you should be at full strength. Using it to try to further revive you would repay the wounds of past hosts and whatever small debt I owe for your words."

"Do you expect me to stand by while you unleash your curse on the Wood Man?" Dalenka protested.

"I expect that to be the Wood Man's decision," growled Blake, "and who said anything about 'unleashing' it?"

"Such an act would defy the _nature_ of your hunger," the Wood Man mused, before adding, "and teach it to obey you perhaps."

"With one lamentable exception, where I was taken completely by surprise," replied Blake, focussing his mind to the task, "it has _always_ obeyed me and been unable to break the leashes I have placed on it."

Dalenka stirred but the glare of Okku's yellow eyes warned her to not break Blake's concentration and she could also feel the deep brown eyes of the Wood Man urging her to calm. She could see the tension in the foreigner's shoulders as he fought an invisible foe and then a dark spirit erupted from nowhere, its tentacles writhing towards the Wood Man as the foreigner flexed in strain. She could feel the waves of energy flowing between this dark spirit, its form the absence rather than presence of light, and the shining form of the Wood Man. This energy rippled out into the Ashenwood and returned stronger, only to be channelled back through the link between the two spirits and then back out to return again even stronger.

"Like the breath of the Earthmother herself…" Dalenka breathed, forgetting her disdain for the curse-bearer in the moment.

Blake straightened, panting with the mental exertion, as the visible form of the spirit-eater vanished again. That had been harder than expected as the curse had been so eager to taste the Wood Man again and the Wood Man's spirit had been undefended. He'd assumed such an ancient spirit would have thick 'walls' around its mind and that to allow the spirit energy to flow 'gates' would have been opened in these. But rather than having to only guard against the curse trying to disobey within those limited channels Blake had needed to control a curse that was unhampered by the Wood Man in where it could try to attack.

"Much that was lost, is restored," said the Wood Man calmly. "The forest breathes, and its anger fades to silence. Thank you."

"May the forest continue to grow and thrive," Blake replied, falling back on polite formulas. "The blessings of Silvanus, _The Forest Father_, be upon you."

"Ah, the influence of the Druid you mentioned knowing?" asked Gann.

"He never actually got to 'know' her," Neeshka whispered to Gann with a wink, "as much as she'd have liked that."

"It seems your hunger, as powerful as it may be," rumbled Okku, ignoring Neeshka though his ears were keen, "is nothing compared with your will."

"Saying it is nothing underestimates the struggle, my friend," Blake said as he turned away from the Wood Man and towards Okku, "and overconfidence could…" Blake's head snapped back around "Wait, where did he go?"

"He went nowhere," replied Gann with a smile as Blake looked around suspiciously, "the Wood Man is all around us, the living spirit of the Ashenwood, he simply saw no need to keep that form."

"One way to end a conversation," Blake commented, glancing at Gann and Neeshka and wondering what joke she had shared with him.

"Come on harbour-boy," said Neeshka, moving closer to Blake and slipping her shield-arm through his sword-arm, "we've done what we came for."

Blake hesitated despite his sweetheart's urgings and the pleasure of having her snuggle up to walk together. "I need to wipe my sword, as I did make poor Nadaj a corpse," Blake said, looking sad, "and there are the corpses here and back at the garrison to be dealt with. If I am not honouring Jergal with fatalism I can at least honour him with proper burials where I can."

"I will deal with those," stated Dalenka flatly. "There are death rituals to be observed and prayers to the spirits to be said, neither of which a foreigner would know."

"Madame, we can help", Gann said, placing Yurkov's Dwarven Waraxe back with him and retrieving his spear, "there are practical matters and the spirits will listen not only to myself and Okku but to the words of us all if we affirm the bravery and skill of your people."

"Be that as it may," replied Dalenka, "_I_ will deal with it. Alone. As your leader so… politely… pointed out I have a responsibility to my people. This is _my_ responsibility, not yours, and it will keep me busy until fresh troops are sent."

"Very well, may the Red Knight bless your plans," Blake said, "and may the spirits hear your prayers and the dead be blessed with the fate they deserve. Your people fought well, with skill and bravery, and the malevolence did not seem to have given Nadaj any choice in serving it."

"Thank you," responded Dalenka, for an instant almost not looking sour, "and may the spirits and your gods aid your quest in ending this curse or at least give you a less painful death than some of its hosts." Her face returned to its usual sneer. "Take what you wish from the garrison stores for your departure, which I assume will be soon. There is plenty now there is only one living mouth to feed here. Two if you count that stray cur."

Blake hesitated, and then decided it would be inappropriate to say how pleased he was the dog had made its way to the garrison or to ask questions to confirm it was the same dog. Dalenka was obviously not as happy about this and with all the bloodshed she would likely resent such an unimportant thing being mentioned and delaying Blake from leaving. There were other things he could say but that raised the question of if Dalenka worth the breath? Did he care enough about her opinion to seek to change it? Did he care enough about how she ran her garrison to seek to advise her?

The answer to all three questions seemed no so Blake simply nodded and resolved to enjoy the stroll back through the Ashenwood with Neeshka. They could not walk too close to each other as she still had her small shield on her arm with its spine and he still had his sword with its sharp edges and magic, but it was still pleasant now the forest seemed less still and dead to wander and enjoy the crisp air and weak sunshine.

Back at the Garrison Blake regretfully disengaged from Neeshka and crossed to the wagon that seemed to have been the shopkeeper's. There he sorted out cloths and cleaning potions for their weapons and armour as, unlike Okku's self-cleansing spirit-form, they would need some. Neeshka had been frowning at the corpses of the Berserkers as she decided whether they would have enough coin to be worth the extra ill will if Dalenka realised that they had been looted but seeing how little Blake was carrying her frown deepened.

"Is that all harbour-boy?" Neeshka asked. "She did say 'take what you wish' and I do have this lovely bag you gave me."

"It would teach her to be more precise in her language," added Gann with a smile. "That she should have said 'need' rather than 'wish' when dealing with your lady."

"There is that temptation," Blake admitted, "but I think we need good will more than goods for now."

"Spoilsport," Neeshka replied with a wink and her usual protest.

A quick search satisfied some mild curiosity about how the Berserker Barracks were arranged and confirmed Nadaj, like Dalenka, had taken the trouble to block the draughts in her hut. Neeshka was on the verge of pointing out that Nadaj's bedroom was cosy and private when she looked at Blake's face and decided against this. He was soft-hearted and as much as she knew he would give into the temptation she also knew he'd feel weird about killing someone and then using their bed for pleasure. Around the back of the barracks Gann found a freshly built and rather cosy looking kennel and a far better fed looking dog peering out from within it. The edge of some sleeping furs were just visible as were the remains of some hefty chunks of meat in a bowl. To Blake's pleasure this was the same dog but to Gann's unhappiness it sniffed the air and then growled and withdrew a little further back away from him and the others. Seeing Gann's puzzlement Okku rumbled gently

"It can smell the blood on us," murmured Okku, "as much as it appreciated the treats you gave it, spawn-of-hags, it knows we slew its new masters and fears us as much as it feared the malevolence in the Ashenwood."

Gann nodded and they went back to the resupplying. It did not take long to carry things the short way to the docks where the Witchboat still floated peacefully and to make some local fish happy as old food was discarded over the side and replaced. At least Blake hoped they were making the local fish happy and he did look a few times to see if any had floated dead to the surface and thus to see if they needed to return to the Ashenwood to kill Dalenka for poisoning their supplies. If any fish did die then Blake did not see them though.

This all took long enough for Okku to become bored with the tedium of watching the mortals plodding back and forth. Nothing had been large or heavy enough to be worth laying across his back and his spirit-teeth shredded any sack he tried to carry in them so he'd been unable to help. Finally though they finished. "What now little-one?" Okku rumbled as Blake emerged from Dalenka's house where he had used her desk to write and leave a list of what they had taken.

"Now we leave," Blake replied, looking around. "I have no desire to encounter Dalenka again and I think we can use the last light of this day to find somewhere to moor and do the tasks that need more room than the cramped conditions aboard the Witchboat would allow."


	11. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

As Blake had hoped after a couple of hours of letting the Witchboat carry them towards Mulsantir, and of Okku's rumblings about it being even more cramped than he remembered, they saw a suitable place to moor. The lake had worn its bank back until it reached the intertwined roots of two substantial trees. Eventually the water might undermine them but for now those roots formed a lump out into deeper water and the trunks of the trees sturdy uprights to tie up to fore and aft. Despite this not being a proper jetty the mooring went far gentler than their hurried approach to the Lake of Tears garrison and soon the Witchboat had secured itself.

On their way towards the Lake of Tears they had not paused. The magic guiding the Witchboat was not dependent on light and so it had been able to sail and steer through the nights. It was still just as capable of doing this but as unaffected as Okku was by their travelling and fighting the same could not be said of the mortal passengers of that craft. The little extra time spent at Immil Vale had left them cleaner for the return journey but that would have left them dirty and sweaty enough even without having to fight the Shape of Fire and then blighted Treants and Berserkers. It was fortunate that the semi-illusionary creatures around the Great Tree had faded rather than adding their sap and wood chips and rock dust to the remains already clinging to armour and shields.

The night they'd spent at the Lake of Tears garrison, where Okku had prowled ashore and the sail was used for shelter rather than propulsion, had been more comfortable as well and even Okku conceded that one night's break was justifiable. They built their fire ashore and by its light and the light of a minor spell set about scrubbing. Gann and Neeshka rubbed oils into the leather of their armour while Blake polished the plates of his. The Mithril chainmail Blake and Neeshka wore was fairly self-cleaning from the effect of the links rubbing together but a good going over with brushes and cloths showed that effect had been reaching its limits. By the time they came to rest the rocks they'd warmed in the fire ashore had transferred their heat to the area under the tent-sail nicely and the three mortals slept while Okku guarded.

Morning came and it was time to swim. As their underwear needed washing as well Blake decided to trust Gann near a skimpily clad Neeshka. This was quite a cold bath that Blake thought would chill the temptation to cavort or stare rather than efficiently scrub and get out as soon as possible. As he saw Neeshka's underwear go transparent and cling closely to her, and her nipples pucker and dent the thin cloth outwards, he had second thoughts. Seeing the motions that let him know she had removed this under the cover of the water to wash gave him even more doubts. Gann was sensible though and made a show of staring out across the lake, especially when Neeshka emerged to dry herself, and trying to look martyred over being deprived of the chance to peek. Even Blake had seen the funny side of his attempts to guard her then though, unlike Neeshka, his amusement had fallen short of giggling.

Once the three mortals were clean and in clean clothes there were a few stitches and a few chain-links to replace or repair. This did not take long and was easier to do ashore than when you were on a boat and were not practised in compensating for how its motions might affect those of your hands. Soon they were ready to depart, the sail hoisted back up rather than forming a tent, the bear-god back taking up most of the room on deck rather than being ashore, and Blake gave the word of command to the Witchboat. Quite gently the ropes unwound themselves from around the trees and coiled themselves back onto the deck, the sail twitched and rose and tilted to catch the wind, and they began to move.

The journey to the Lake of Tears had been uneventful and so proved the journey back to Mulsantir. Blake spent much of his night watches thinking about the events and brooding on whether he could have avoided killing the Berserkers and how he could defend his actions to Sheva. As much as he trusted Gann and Okku when they said it was safe to return to Mulsantir he still disliked the idea of risking Neeshka's life. Going to Mulsantir after killing the Berserkers seemed even more foolish than entering Fort Locke that first time.

At least then there had been no witnesses and an acting-commander who wouldn't bother to investigate why the soldiers they'd slain to prevent their corpses being used to claim fraudulent bandit bounties had disappeared. Blake could also think of some Gods that could have been offended by the actions of the soldiers so it might not have been purely Tymorra's luck that let them survive to do some good when they entered rather than bypassed Fort Locke. Here though there was a hostile witness in Dalenka, the Berserkers had acted in accordance to their duty and honour, and Sheva seemed like she would care about the deaths. And Kazimika seemed like she would welcome the excuse for more hostility.

The days were more pleasant as Neeshka's smile drove away Blake's ability to brood with the joy it gave rise to. There was also the distraction of comparing fishing techniques with Gann between those used in clear mountain streams and lakes and those in murky swamp ponds and pools. Neeshka kept score for them as they caught fish and showed that she could gut those as efficiently as she could anything or anyone else.

"I think I am getting the hang of this boat…" Blake commented, glancing at the shoreline and realising just how close they were to Mulsantir, "finally."

"Seem to be getting the hang of other things as well," Neeshka smiled.

Blake looked at her, which he always found a pleasure, and raised his eyebrows with a 'huh' of puzzlement. Neeshka twinkled at him before putting a mock serious expression on her face, dropping her voice slightly, and mumbling some gibberish that in tone and rhythm sounded like the language of magic. Blake still looked blank for a moment or three more before he nodded.

"Ah," Blake nodded. His fear for Neeshka if their reception in Mulsantir was hostile had motivated him. When he'd not been thinking how to verbally defend their actions he'd been thinking how Mystra and Azuth could help with the arcane if Milil could not with eloquence. He'd not realised Neeshka had noticed this practice but was not surprised that she had. "Yes, it's beginning to feel easier to cast spells without gestures. The simpler ones seem to be flowing better."

"Your gods of magic have a strange sense of humour," said Gann with a slightly smug smile. "It is good though that they are becoming almost as generous as my spirits in regard to what you wear."

"It is also good I do not need to eat," Okku rumbled, "or the 'generous' space for provisions onboard would not have been adequate despite your predatory actions against the fish."

"Aye, my friend," Blake said, "I think we used almost as much hard biscuit for crumbs to lure the fish in as we gained in fish meat. This is not a large vessel and even if I didn't still need answers here, and owe Sheva a report, it is definitely a boat rather than a ship that could carry me home."

"Hrmm," frowned Okku, his tiny shift in weight as he turned to look more directly at Blake being enough to tilt the Witchboat slightly before it compensated. "You were considering that little one? To flee rather than try to end this curse."

"I cannot flee what is within me," Blake pointed out, gaining a 'hrmm' of agreement from Okku, "but the thought did occur. Has been said that the more you indulge the curse the greater its hunger and the opposite seems true. With as leashed as I have managed to make it thanks to the advice and support you have all given I would not need to very often hunt Undead and grant them rest to keep this curse sated."

"Are Undead that common in your land then?" asked Gann, unsure about that plan but interested in how the Sword Coast differed from Rashemen.

"Not common, but not as unknown as here," Blake replied. "Whether they are common enough is another matter and was not the main problem. This curse is ancient enough that even a very long human lifespan of sating it that way would still be a short time by comparison. Best to end it here and now while I have the aid of such worthy comrades."

"I thank you for that," smiled Gann, "and though I do not know what it is to have a home I have seen in their dreams how many yearn to return to theirs. You resisting the desire to return to familiar places and forget the curse in the comfort of routine says much for you."

"Forgetting this curse while it gnaws at me every waking second, and even in sleep, would be impossible…" Blake grumbled before admitting, "But, aye. I have enough responsibilities back on the Sword Coast I could have tried to bury myself in them."

As the Witchboat approached the jetty Neeshka opened her mouth to comment and then decided not to. Blake was distracted by the demands of the mooring but Gann saw this small movement and wiggled his eyebrows at her. Neeshka blushed slightly as she realised Gann knew she had been going to suggest that responsibilities were not the only thing Blake could have buried himself in once they were back on the Sword Coast and had some privacy. Blake glanced back at Neeshka's nervous giggle and though it suited her, and could just be the wind, did wonder what had brought that colour to her cheeks.

Some of Blake's concern over if Neeshka's feelings were love or gratitude came back. Knowing it was the curse that had made him doubt she was his soul mate did not affect his doubt if he was truly hers. Sometimes it seemed that he was too stodgy and that someone like Gann would suit her better. They were both wanderers, inclined to impulse rather than planning, and free spirits. Blake was sure that Gann would have happily gone along with robbing the Collector as an enjoyable challenge rather than refusing and 'making things complicated' by using a pretence to bait Leldon in. And now something Gann had said had made Neeshka giggle and blush and he'd said it quietly and privately enough Blake had not even heard him speak.

The Witchboat snuggled into the jetty and at Blake's command whipped its ropes out and around the mooring posts. While Neeshka quickly concealed her Tiefling features beneath her cloak Blake hopped ashore and looked around for Vazil so he could tell the old man how well his Witchboat had performed and thank him, but it seemed it was too late in the day for him to be dockside. With a shrug Blake began donning his full armour rather than just the chain shirt he'd worn to have some protection while still being able to swim.

"Expecting trouble?" asked Gann as Blake replaced cloth trousers with mail.

"I trust you and Okku that it was safe to return here," Blake replied, pulling on his armoured boots, "but I know how I'd react if someone came and told me they had killed a detachment of my men."

"And how would that be," said Gann, raising both eyebrows in enquiry as Blake strapped on knee-guards.

"Hopefully with calmness," Blake mused, wrapping one thigh-guard on and buckling the three straps. "Hopefully I would ask them for their reasons and follow the teachings of Tyr and justice…" He wrapped the other thigh-guard on and buckled its straps. "But I do have a temper, and if they had killed _my_ people then it would be easy to sway more towards Hoar and retribution. And with the hostility they have shown I mistrust the Witches to be fair minded."

Gann nodded with a sly smile Blake did not notice as he continued dressing, choosing armour plates depending on how far up his body his progress had reached and whether they needed to be over something else. Neeshka moved in to help and soon Blake had breast and back plate clam-shelled together and had donned the guards around his upper arms and the shoulder pauldrons to protect that joint and with their 'fin' block sweeping blows at his neck. Blake smiled and nodded in thanks as he pulled on the gauntlets he had left for last as he'd needed his fingers nimble for the buckles and catches.

"If you have quite finished little-one," Okku rumbled, "then let us be on our way."

"Aye," Blake replied, deciding to risk not pulling up his chainmail hood and to risk not wearing his helmet. There was still a click though as he drew his sword an inch to make sure it was free in its scabbard before he pushed it back home. "Let us speak to the Witches."

The walk up the hill and to the Witches' sacred grove passed in silence. The few inhabitants of Mulsantir that were on the street this late did not seem inclined to speak or get in the way of either an armoured and glowering man or of a bear-god whose eyes seemed even more yellow in the approaching twilight. Blake measured with his eyes the width of the approach from the Berserker Lodge to where he could see the three Witches waiting despite the lateness of the hour. He'd seen how many Berserkers were inside that building but hopefully they'd be disorganised enough to get in each other's way either at their door or where this path narrowed.

Blake drew in breath to make one of his rehearsed greetings, hoping Milil would bless him, but before he could speak Sheva was already talking. "I am sorry child," she said, her tone suggesting some sincerity, "sorry that I treated you poorly because you were a foreigner and sorry that I did not trust you to control your hunger."

"And I…" added Kazimika, sounding as if she forcing the words out with near as much pain as childbirth without the appropriate herbs, "I am… sorry as well."

"And…" Sheva said, with a glance at her subordinate, "we are both sorry that you did not find your answers in the Ashenwood. I guided you poorly child."

This was not what Blake was expecting. The Witches seemed to know something of what had happened but instead of demanding explanations were offering apologies. It was possible, in fact probable, that Dalenka would have had some way to send a message but this reception was still a surprise. "Not at all," Blake finally said. "I did learn about previous bearers of this curse and meet some in a Mosstone Dreamscape, but…"

"As Gannayev will tell you," Sheva interrupted, "spirits chatter like fishwives. We learned of what you had done even before you had finished loading provisions from the garrison stores and set sail again."

"Ah, though you mean as Gann _didn't_ tell me," replied Blake, noticing Gann's smug look. Even without Sheva's statement that expression made it clear Gann knew the news would not come as a surprise and so they didn't have to worry about an immediate and shocked reaction.

"You would still have felt you owed them a report," Gann oozed, "and it was pleasant to see you surprised for once."

"We do thank you for returning here to tell us yourself," added Sheva, noticing how Gann's smile was beginning to falter as Blake turned and glared.

Blake looked at Gann for a few moments longer, his gaze reminding Gann of what he had said about having a temper and showing how much he failed to see the amusement in days of worrying there would be a fight that would endanger the woman he loved. Neeshka stepped into his side, her hand stealing out from beneath her concealing cloak and onto Blake's, making him realise it had gone to the hilt of his sword. With an effort Blake unclenched his hand from that and gave Neeshka a smile as he took her hand instead and turned back to Sheva.

"Indeed, well," Blake nodded, "learning how previous hosts had revelled in the curse and called it a gift went… some way… to helping me understand both the temptations of this curse and the rudeness and hostility I have met." Blake's eyes shifted to Kazimika. "And yes, I do mean you as well as Dalenka but your apology is accepted and no grudge is borne."

"I am pleased you have gained knowledge and perspective," replied Sheva. "You saved our sister Dalenka…"

"Despite the temptation to just stab her," Neeshka muttered up into Blake's ear.

"Risked your own soul to heal our sacred forest," Sheva continued, giving no sign of if she had heard Neeshka. "Our gratitude and trust are yours. We pray that the spirits will help you find your answers… and your salvation. Farewell."

"What?" exclaimed Blake.

He'd come here ready to give a full report. However much they might have learned from the 'chatter' of the spirits and whatever report Dalenka had made it seemed to Blake that they should have questions still for him. That even if the facts were known that a different perspective might shed more light on them. Though on reflection that they had apologised for misjudging his intentions towards the curse did not mean they had changed their other attitudes. Why would witches think a foreigner would have any insight to share? And there seemed little point in stirring the swamp if they had decided the matter was closed.

"And farewell to you as well," Blake managed to say finally.

Okku rumbled in satisfaction as the little-one turned away and, his mate's paw clasped in his, began heading down the hill. The message he had sent through the spirits during the night the Witchboat had spent moored to those trees and he had been able to roam ashore seemed to have reached these Witches. There was still the chance they would have been impudent enough to ask questions rather than accepting the statement of a god-of-bears but they had not made that mistake. They had accepted Okku's word that the Berserkers had died valiantly and in service of the Witches. That Nadaj had been possessed did not alter the bravery and loyalty they had shown.

Blake stopped partway between the sacred grove and the entrance to the Berserker Lodge and out of easy earshot of either. He brushed a kiss across Neeshka's fingertips before closing his eyes briefly in thought. "The Witches seem to… could be apathy, could be arrogance… but they have dismissed the events of the Ashenwood," mused Blake, "so let's consider what to do next."

"Night is falling," Gann pointed out reasonably, "so next I would say would be to sleep."

"Well," said Neeshka with a wink to Blake, "go to bed at least."

"We still have the problem of the lack of privacy my dear," Blake reminded her, kissing her hand again, "which would have been another reason to return home so I could bury myself in… work."

Neeshka giggled as Blake said what she'd decided against saying before. They continued down the hill to the Veil Theatre. Blake hoped that Lienna's room would still be available but if not at least they would be close to the city gates so they could set up camp just outside the walls. Lamplight gleamed out from between two shutters over a window and when Blake gently pushed the front door open Magda looked up from her bustling about to give them a welcoming smile. She seemed happy to see and offer them hospitality again, and even happier when Blake gave her a few gold coins and when Gann gave her the full benefit of his charm.

By the time Gann had finished complimenting Magda and the Veil Theatre and drawing comparisons with the Sloop Inn to the detriment of the latter, the gold coins had been rendered almost unnecessary, though only almost so as she was a canny Dwarf. However skilled Gann said her actors were, rather than drunkards, however intelligent and witty their plays sounded to be, rather than coarse, and however clean and welcoming their rooms were, rather than filthy, the flattery would wear off but the coins would remain a reassuring weight in her coin-purse.

"…I _do_ hope that we get the chance to see one of your plays," Gann said as they reached the door to the back room. This spanned the entire rear of the Veil Theatre though with how it narrowed in the middle it was almost a corridor and two rooms, one of which had the bed and the portal.

"Aye," agreed Blake, "they sound nice."

Gann rolled his eyes a little at Blake's lack of smoothness. Blake glanced back with an air of puzzlement; he'd said it sounded nice hadn't he?

"I hope so too milord," Magda replied to Gann, "though that depends on when your travels bring you to us, and whether we create a new one or have to blow the dust off the scrolls of an old."

"Well, may Oghma bring you knowledge and Milil the poetry to express it," said Blake politely, opening the door, "and I thank you again for the use of this room."

"I hope you rest well milords and milady," Magda smiled. Her expression was partially the effects of Gann's flattery, partially acknowledgement and gratitude for Blake's good wishes, but mostly because something had occurred to her even before Blake gave her those good wishes. _'Maybe Oghma has already brought a source of knowledge,'_ she thought,_ 'now which floorboards creak?'_

They bid Magda goodnight and farewell and the three mortals stripped down to more comfortable clothes. Blake grunted once in annoyance as he removed the armour that Gann had known was unnecessary but decided to not grumble at Gann. As before Neeshka got the bed and Gann and Blake spread their bedrolls, and hers, to cushion the floorboards but this time they did not retire to sleep immediately. This seemed a good time and a comfortable place to talk in the puddle of light the torches and the cantrip of _Light_ created around them.

"We _know_ this curse is the creation of a dead god," Blake started, "very likely Myrkul, and we _know_ I was infected with it by being placed in the chamber in Okku's barrow where it was being contained." Okku rumbled in agreement. "I have suggested the Red Wizard's purpose was to weaken Rashemen by its spirits being devoured, but this is only a suggestion…"

"Would that really have worked?" asked Gann dubiously. "Your skill and power is such that you would have been a formidable enemy, but our travels have made it clear your nature is such you would have sought to avoid becoming a blight on this land."

"I thank you for your faith, my friend, but seeking to avoid something is not the same as succeeding at avoiding it. Their plans could easily have worked out better."

"You have had your lady's support," Gann pointed out.

Blake smiled to Neeshka. "Something for which I am incredibly grateful, and which I think has been a large part of my success so far."

"I wasn't going to let you face this alone harbour-boy," Neeshka replied firmly, returning the smile.

"Which… is where the Red Wizards failed," nodded Blake. "From the tales I have heard of them and their constant warring for position it would be inconceivable to them that someone would do what Neeshka did. Risk _your_ life for love of _another_ rather than exploit their kidnapping for your own advantage? Surely you jest. The planning of the Red Knight strikes a far greater chord with them than the love or passion of Sune."

Neeshka giggled. "From that perspective jumping into that portal was not the smartest thing I have ever done."

"Ah," Gann pointed out, "but had you not then you would never have met me, and what a tragedy that would have been."

"Indeed, the horror of it for her," Blake replied deadpan. "But to get back to what I was saying I think the Red Wizards might have expected the power of this curse to corrupt me. That finding myself with new abilities I would explore them, would analyse and assess them…"

"And make lots and lots of notes," smiled Neeshka.

Blake looked to her and nodded, wondering for a moment whether he should have been doing that here anyway. Then he continued. "That I would see how they could be used to increase my own power," he said, adding with audible understatement. "The reputation of the Red Wizards suggests they are not concerned with morality in their pursuit of knowledge so sacrificing spirits to that end would not trouble them."

"But it would trouble you little-one," Okku rumbled.

"It would, but I am not sure it would have troubled me enough," admitted Blake. "Had Neeshka not followed, and sliced out the throat of that Red Wizard, then rather than having Neeshka's support through this I would have been either alone in an unfriendly country or alone save for the Red Wizard. Without Neeshka's support at that crucial moment my control over this curse…"

"Harbour-boy stubbornness," Neeshka muttered, starting to get a little uncomfortable how much Blake was assigning his success to her.

"Might have not been enough to prevent it feeding on you my friend," continued Blake, "and rather than just being vilified by the Witches here I'd have likely been actively hunted. With no other allies…"

Gann nodded as Blake looked at him enquiringly. "Yes, I think had you devoured Okku, then that would have been the last you saw of me. Or the last of me as a friend or ally at least."

"With no other allies," nodded Blake, "might I not have turned back to, or leaned more on, the Red Wizard. With all around treating me as an enemy might I not have fought back with whatever means I could, even this strange new power that I needed to test to find the capabilities of?"

"You might," Okku rumbled, "and it would not take many 'tests' before you would need to feed the curse rather than it being your choice."

"So I would be roaming Rashemen," sighed Blake, "devouring its spirits, fighting its soldiers, doing the work of the Red Wizards for them. And the whole time I would think I was just defending myself…"

"Defending yourself?" Okku growled in mild protest.

"Defending myself. As far as I was concerned when we first met you condemned me to death because of a Red Wizard plot. I doubt I would have been happier about that if, had Neeshka not been there to tell me, I'd not even known how I had been placed in your barrow. I defended myself then, I defended myself when you pursued me, and I'd have defended myself had I killed you and the Witches sought to avenge you."

"Hrm," Okku conceded, "there is something in what you say little-one. You would not know _why_ I had wished to drag your broken body back to within the curse's prison so you would feel you had been condemned for killing me in self-defence."

"That wouldn't have worked," commented Neeshka, adding when Okku and Blake looked at her, "dragging him back I mean. I don't know if harbour-boy here was awake enough to notice but before that red-robed-slime approached him she cast some magic and the glow that had been between the pillars vanished."

"I hadn't noticed," Blake admitted, "everything was very fuzzy so if I did see that glow then I thought it was just my eyes playing tricks. Could be that the magic the Red Wizard dispelled was to keep mortals out rather than the curse in, but if she dispelled one barrier I'd not trust she had not dispelled more or all of them."

"Then we are fortunate," rumbled Okku. "As painful as my defeats were they would not have been as painful as a victory where the curse simply left rather than being imprisoned."

"That was perhaps their backup plan," Blake nodded. "At least they would have released the curse to find new random victims if they had failed, thanks to your might and the loyalty of your army, at…"

"At making you their weapon," hissed Neeshka, remembering what Blake had said before. "She was going to manipulate you harbour-boy, try to aim you like a crossbow, try to feed the paranoia you'd be feeling…"

"Make me think I was only defending myself when I'd be waging war on Rashemen…" Blake added before breaking off as his eyes hardened, "She was going to make me into what we fought, into the King of Shadows. Suddenly I am even _more_ pleased she is dead."

"King of Shadows, little-one?" commented Okku with a complacent yawn. "A pompous sounding title."

"But an accurate one and a terrible threat," Blake said. "It corrupted the swamps around the village I grew up in so they drained the life from all within. It tricked a Luskan Archmage and reshaped him into a leader for the army of Undead it sent against the city of Neverwinter…"

"Would that be the necromancer you mentioned before?" asked Gann. "The one whose defeat misled you about the proper tactics to fight old father bear with?"

"It would," Blake replied, turning to Okku. "As the King of Shadows' power was being channelled through that 'Shadow Reaver' forcing him for flee deprived his army of that power, whereas your army was channelling power into you…"

"So you attacked them and deprived me of their strength," growled Okku, "I understand little-one. But there is more to this King of Shadows that you should regard him as having been so terrible?"

"Decades ago it had sent another army of Undead towards Neverwinter under the command of an Avatar of itself," Blake continued. "Before that it had sent its Avatars against the Githyanki in their extra-planar cities and those had slaughtered thousands. And before that it had destroyed its creators and though the mages of Illefarn salvaged enough of a victory to manage to imprison it the walls of that prison had worn thin and allowed it to begin sending out the Avatars I mentioned."

"Quite the list," mused Gann, "though I have heard of Illefarn. Perhaps the dreams people have are of the shining legend rather than the duller reality but this does not sound like something they would create."

"That was not their intent," Blake began, "but they did not anticipate…"

"Hrm," groused Okku, "Mortals seem inclined to that. They make their grand plans without the wisdom or foresight to see how they could go wrong."

Blake nodded to the bear-god, paused to think, and then began again. "The great rival to Illefarn was Netheril. In their concern over how the younger empire was growing the Illefarn sought to create a perfect defender of their realm. They took a volunteer and in a ritual that lasted days they burned his mind and soul with the energies of the Weave so that nothing but his determination to protect Illefarn remained and so that he became a creature of pure magic."

"Burned?" asked Gann in surprise.

"Burned," Blake replied flatly.

"We met a ghost that had been his girlfriend, or at least very close to him" added Neeshka. "She was confused and thought the ritual was still going on. She pleaded with us to make them stop, telling us how he was screaming in agony…"

"That… does sound far less shining legend," Gann nodded, "and far more bloody truth. I take it that creating a defender through such painful means went wrong?"

"Not at once," Blake said, to Gann's further surprise. "At first it seemed to have worked. The sacrifice the volunteer had made had given them their perfect defender and the borders of Illefarn were secure. What they did not know was that beyond those borders within Netheril there was an Archmage seeking to become a god. His attempt to replace Mystra slew the Goddess of Magic and for the few moments it took her to be reborn there was no magic in this world."

"I have heard that tale and, though I doubt the cause as I doubt the Gods, is that not how their floating cities fell?" commented Gann.

"It was," Blake replied, "and as well as being long enough for those cities to smash into the ground below them it was also long enough that a creature of pure magic sustained by the Weave would have died. Unless it turned instead to the Shadow-Weave so it could survive to continue to defend Illefarn."

"Hence King of 'Shadows' though… you said it destroyed the mages of Illefarn?" pondered Gann. "How was that acting in _defence_?"

"The leaders of Illefarn feared their great defender had been corrupted by now being a creature of the Shadow-Weave rather than Weave, so they sent their armies and mages against it. The ghost of the creator of the ritual suggested that as the defender _knew_ it was the protector of Illefarn that would mean that anything or anyone attacking it, whatever banners they flew, _must_ be an enemy of Illefarn and should be treated as such."

"And treating them as such it destroyed them," nodded Gann.

"Destroyed them and then spent millennia trying to escape from its prison so it could return to defending the empire it had caused to fall. The loss of so many lives with their soldiers and so much knowledge with their mages sent what remained of Illefarn into the decline that ended them as a nation."

"Could you not simply try to tell it Illefarn was long dead and it could also die?" asked Gann reasonably, inclined as he was towards charm and diplomacy.

"I did," replied Blake, "and it told me that the suggestion that Illefarn was dead, that it could ever die, was a threat to Illefarn."

"Ah, that would be a problem with that argument then," Gann admitted.

"So it proved," smiled Blake ruefully. "So here was this creature of immense power, implacable in its purpose, and determined to drive 'invaders' out of the lands Illefarn once encompassed. Unable to understand thanks to how its mind had been deliberately crippled that those 'invaders' were people who had never heard of Illefarn and who had been living in peace on their farms and in their villages for centuries." Blake frowned. "Perhaps my comparison was not as apt though."

"Because though you are affected by the hunger," Gann asked contemplatively, "your mind is not crippled by this? Or do you doubt your power?"

"Both," Blake replied simply before continuing. "I'd like to think that however much the Red Wizard tried to manipulate me that, unlike the King of Shadows, I'd be willing to listen to reason and to look at the truth rather than being blinded by preconceptions."

"Oh-ho… 'preconceptions'… that's one word for it harbour-boy," Neeshka teased. "I know how trusting men can be of a pretty girl and her mother did tell her to treat you as if she loved you."

"Fortunately I am immune to that sort of thing," Blake said, ignoring Neeshka's snort of disbelief and smiling to her. "An immunity I built up resisting a certain Tiefling and managing to succeed, for the most part, despite her being beautiful rather than merely pretty. An immunity further strengthened by the fact my heart is hers and, though that made it harder to resist her, that would have made it easier to resist the Red Wizard."

For a moment Neeshka almost argued and the look on her face made Blake's smile falter. They'd agreed that he'd not have been able to resist her 'suggestion' to rob the Collector if she had been willing to risk their relationship and use all the ways she could have persuaded him. Neeshka was sure the Red Wizard would have done whatever it took to induce Blake to her whims. Even if she had failed to seduce him that could still have been a problem. Neeshka knew her harbour-boy would think he'd given the Red Wizard the wrong impression and feel guilty for having to reject her.

She had also seen how Blake had reacted to Shandra and Elanee and the Red Wizard might have taken advantage of those same reactions. Her harbour-boy had been grateful to Elanee for her aid and guidance and would have shown the same gratitude to the Red Wizard for helping him escape the barrow and guiding him to Mulsantir. If there had still been a coup at the Thayan Academy and the Red Wizard left homeless he would also have given her the same sympathy he'd given Shandra when her barn and then house had been burnt down. And both reactions might have been stronger. In the case of Elanee Blake already had Khelgar and his Tiefling helping him rather than being alone. In the case of Shandra she had been angry and abrasive before Blake had even spoken and had blamed them for the misfortunes.

The Red Wizard though could have struck a balance between grief and determination, between blaming Blake that she'd been sent to him rather than at her Academy and admitting it was not his fault she'd been sent, and between being strong enough to not be pathetic while weak enough that Blake would feel obliged to help. Neeshka shifted her expression and smiled reassuringly at Blake, managing to also restore his smile. She might have won the argument but as natural as it seemed to her harbour-boy to show gratitude for aid or compassion for someone who was alone those reactions were more rare and precious in Neeshka's experience. This was something to be cherished along with the rest of him rather than something to argue against him extending, even if this might have benefited a Red Wizard had he not his Tiefling to watch out for him.

"Your mate seems less sure of your immunity," rumbled Okku, more sensing how Neeshka's spirit shifted than being able to read how her face had, "and I am less sure about if you would lack the power of this thing."

"It _was_ very powerful. Even when weakened by a ritual the mages of Illefarn had, despite being mortals, the foresight to create to help fight their creation if things went wrong it still took a great deal of fighting, powerful allies, and the Sword of Gith to defeat it."

"Maybe so little-one," nodded Okku, "but there are tales of spirit-eaters that indulged their curse and became creatures of pure hunger. Fortunately their hunger grew by more than their power so even the great strength they gained was not enough to allow them to feed fast enough to avoid being consumed themselves. Had one of those met your 'King of Shadows' I do wonder who would have slain whom."

"Then, my ursine friend," Blake replied, "I am even more grateful for the guidance and support you have all given me."

"Please, no group hugs," said Gann, glancing at Neeshka and deciding not to say something, "though I am sure we are all very happy. We are _also_ all speculating."

"True enough," Blake admitted, "and my assumptions about the purpose of the Red Wizard plot _are_ just assumptions. I don't think we will ever know for sure how well I would have been able to resist the Red Wizard. Nor, if I had not and her intent was what I think, whether I'd have been as great a threat to Rashemen as the King of Shadows was to the Sword Coast…"

"You'd have managed," smiled Neeshka reassuringly, "no bald-headed bitch would have wrapped _my_ harbour-boy around her finger."

"But would she have wrapped her fingers around his…" Gann began, faltering when Neeshka glared at him. The fire in her eyes seemed to have intensified and Gann decided to refrain from finishing his sentence.

"Hah," Blake said, taking the remark better, "not sure that was what her mother meant by her instructions, and when I said my heart was Neeshka's I did mean other body parts as well." He saw Neeshka was fuming and decided to change the subject. "There are the clues to be sought from the Slumbering Coven in that Sunken City, answers for Gann as to why he has seen this in his dreams so often, and those clues and answers might help test my assumptions about the plot."

"It is logical what you say," nodded Gann, "and quite persuasive. That you _would_ have resisted becoming their weapon though and that you mentioned a coup at their Academy, which would hinder them taking advantage of the chaos you'd be causing, argues against though. And simply put the strands of dream connecting you to others due to this curse do not feel right, they 'taste' of lost love rather than advantage sought."

"I cannot speak of dream-strands," Blake replied, "but their choice of me and choice of the timing of the coup had occurred to me. As you say though we are speculating so let us rest for now and hope travelling to the Sunken City gives an explanation that does not have those flaws and… er… 'tastes' right with dreams."

"Aye," rumbled Okku, "the sooner you sleep the sooner you will wake and we can be on our way."

They finished stripping down to underwear that was comfortable to sleep in. Neeshka took advantage of Gann's back being to her to wink at Blake when she caught his eye and to then lean forward slightly where she was kneeling on the bed and shimmy her shoulders. She'd already removed her breastband from beneath her shirt so the way that made her less restrained breasts jiggle brought a slightly stunned look to Blake's face and a wicked grin to Neeshka's as she saw her harbour-boy's reaction. With a giggle she slipped down under the bedcovers.

Gann glanced over his shoulder and then back at Blake, whose expression was returning towards normal. "I hope that whatever she just did," Gann commented with a slight smile, "you do not dream of it _too_ strongly. It would not embarrass me, but it might you and I'd not want your lady to think you were cheating on her with me. It was rather memorable what she did to that Frost Giant."

There were some muffled giggles from the bed as Neeshka buried her face in the pillow and pulled the covers up over her head. Blake looked at Gann for a moment as he sought a polite way to reply. "Let us hope so my friend," Blake finally managed to reply. "That having an ancient curse inside me, a bear-god beside me, a sweetheart who is good with knives, and that… despite your fine flowing locks and slender figure… you don't match my preferences in one crucial way is enough."

Okku harrumphed in impatience with the byplay and Gann contented himself with a simple nod in reply to Blake before lying down under his part of the covers. Blake hesitated and considered a modesty partition of pillows as he was suffering one of the disadvantages of being a Wizard. He'd needed to train his memory to remember complex arcane formulas and that also let him better remember the glance he'd had of Neeshka. Worse still that had been a very good glance thanks to his practice in quickly reading people's postures to recognise what spell or what attack they intended. With a slight sigh Blake decided to just settle down, and despite his fears sleep soon came and if he did dream of Neeshka and get an 'embarrassment' then nobody noticed and Blake did not remember.

The night passed and Blake suddenly found himself on his feat. He realised as the fog of sleep cleared that his sword, still in its scabbard, was in his hand; glancing towards the bed he saw Neeshka had rolled out of the opposite side and was crouching beside it and holding the dagger she'd kept beneath the pillows. A slight chuckle of amusement from Okku drew Blake's attention to him and away from the sight of a scantily clad Neeshka ready to spring. Blake was still trying to figure out what had woken him, fighting through the remaining sleepiness and the distraction of his sweetheart's dishabille, when there was another knock on the door.

"Milords?" Magda's voice called through the wood. "Milady? I said we have a breakfast ready for you…"

Blake blinked and cleared his throat, taking the time to make his voice come out normal, "Thank you Magda, that is most kind of you. We shall be there in a few minutes."

There was the faint sound of retreating footsteps and an even fainter rustle of cloth as, to Blake's mild disappointment, Neeshka slipped back under the concealment of the bed covers. He gave the wriggling mound of bedding another glance and then looked back at Okku whose eyes revealed that even bear-gods had some sense of humour. Okku chuckled again before speaking.

"Little-one, you had a god-of-bears guarding you. You and your mate moved with impressive speed but perhaps you should take your guide from the Hagspawn. Or seek to wake earlier so that you are already awake by the time for breakfast."

"This is an interesting angle on you," commented Gann, with a yawn as he looked up from where he was still lying, "though not the best sight to wake up to."

"Of course not," Blake replied, looking down, "I just saw the best sight to wake up to…" He looked towards the bed. "Have I mentioned how magnificent you look when you are tensed for battle my love?"

Neeshka popped back out from beneath the covers and grinned mischievously at Blake. "The lack of clothes probably didn't hurt."

"That _does_ sound better," smiled Gann, sitting up, "but I believe our fearlessly bearded leader is grateful I missed seeing that, and that breakfast was mentioned?"

"Aye," Blake said, "to both counts."

"Old king bear does not eat, and is glorious in the colours of his fur," Gann mused, "and I of course do have clothes for those times I am given hospitality and need to appear at a dining table in something more appropriate than armour."

"Fortunately," Blake said, with some sourness, "when I arrived in Mulsantir I misjudged the town. By the time the Witches 'greeted' me with their threats and insults and lack of welcome I'd already bought some clothes to replace those I'd left at home. Had they 'greeted' me sooner it would have seemed unlikely that armour would ever _not_ be appropriate." Blake paused and nodded. "Neeshka would have been fine though, it was a pretty enough dress we found that it would have still been worth buying."

"Wish we had found a tailor harbour-boy," complained Neeshka mildly, "it needs a few alterations."

"I am sure you will still make it look beautiful," Blake reassured her, "even if it does not have a slit for your lovely tail to be free and I know how you dislike your tail being confined."

One corner of Neeshka's mouth quirked. "I can stand it for a while, though it feels like if you were wearing a shirt that was too tight and you couldn't move your arms properly."

Blake nodded and began to dress in the simple clothes he had bought. This outfit was similar to what Tarmas had worn back in West Harbour, and what Sand had been wearing when they met so, though these were of the more practical design the shopkeeper here had not been inaccurate describing them as 'wizard robes'. The 'robe' portion was a long open sleeveless coat-like design over trousers and shirt. Far easier to move in than the ornate and voluminous 'dresses' some wizards favoured and far less likely to get swamp mud on a hem or have a dangling sleeve catch fire as you tried to do alchemy.

As Blake buckled on his dagger belt, and checked the scabbard on it was discreetly under the 'coat', he noticed that Neeshka was still sitting in bed and had made no move to get dressed. Blake glanced at Gann who was managing to look resplendent in a well-tailored outfit that was both too colourful and too tight in places for Blake to think the style would have suited him as well. One corner of Neeshka's mouth quirked as she saw Blake look back at her.

"Are you not coming to breakfast, my love?" asked Blake in puzzlement.

"I need to strip right down," Neeshka replied, adding with a wink, "now I don't mind doing that in front of Gann, and I think Gann would very much not mind…"

"Indeed not," agreed Gann, his smile remaining firm despite Blake's frown at that honesty.

"But I thought you might."

"Your expression suggests she is right," observed Gann to Blake, "and I suggest that if I have to leave then we both have to leave rather than leave you unchaperoned in a room with an inviting bed and your lady in the nude. I think that would mean neither of you would come to breakfast, though you both might come… to lunch."

"Okku would still be sufficient chaperone," Blake replied, struck by the images Gann's words had evoked.

"Hrm," rumbled Okku, "I have no interest in your mating little-one but a portal has two sides. I can just as easily guard the side on the shadow-plane if my presence here would make you feel awkward."

Blake stood there. He did not like the idea of having sex when people knew he was having sex and would be waiting for him to finish. But Neeshka was so beautiful and so desirable and if they used one of their travelling blankets there would be no embarrassing evidence on the sheets for Magda to find. His mind roiled and in sympathy so did his stomach so it suddenly gurgled rather audibly.

"That settles that," Neeshka giggled, "sounds like you need breakfast harbour-boy to have enough fuel for anything else."

For a moment Blake considered a protest and reminding Neeshka of what she'd said about having no complaints about his endurance, but then he nodded.

"On to breakfast then," Blake said, striding towards the door before his resolve weakened again.

"I don't eat," Okku reminded him, "but I shall be sociable and attend despite the waste of time."

"Oh," mock-protested Gann, "_now_ we are in a rush… can I not have a few minutes more to look my best for our lady hostess?"

Blake paused as he opened the door and looked back over his shoulder at Gann who smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. One day Blake would stop rising to that bait and have learned when Gann was teasing, but to Gann's pleasure that day was not today. Trying to look sad Gann patted one hand to his chest.

"Ah well," Gann added, infusing tragedy into his words, "if we must deny her my full handsomeness then we must. A misfortune I hope she does not think too great."

"I am sure she will withstand that blow," Blake replied, leading the way on. "And we'd not want to overwhelm her with how glorious you are."

They found a table had been set up on the stage, serving as a genuine dining table rather than just as a prop of one, and that the other members of the Veil Theatre staff were there as well. Blake remembered Sweet Wallace and Lothario's names from the banter back and forth just before the previous night he had spent here but realised he'd never learnt the name of the Actress or the Air Genasi. "Wallace, Lothario, miss, sir…" Blake said, with a polite nod-bow to each in turn before he sat.

"Ah, you have excelled yourself Madame," Gann added with a brilliant smile towards Magda. "This breakfast looks as generous as your kind nature and just as delectable as your company."

"Thank you milord," replied Magda as Gann sat next to the actress so he could work on charming her as well.

"Aye, this is a magnificent spread," Blake agreed, "you have our thanks and gratitude."

Magda smiled and then glanced around. "Is your lady not joining us milord?"

"Nature has a certain balance," Blake replied, "my armour takes more getting dressed than hers but when it is clothes for a breakfast with pleasant company it is the other way around."

"Though ladies make looking beautiful seem effortless," added Gann, smiling to the actress, "I do appreciate the effort, especially so early in the day"

The actress smiled back at Gann, fluttering her eyelashes slightly as she preened under the praise. This was Gannayev, Gann-of-dreams, and if even half his legendary reputation was truth then the opportunity to be seduced by him should not be missed. She dropped one shoulder to lean slightly towards Gann and angle her cleavage accordingly. With satisfaction she saw his eyes drop a moment but then to her frustration he looked away as light footsteps approached.

Neeshka slipped through the doorway and smiled as Blake rose from his seat to greet her. As well as confining her tail this dress was also a little tight across the bosom and a little loose at the waist. Rather than be embarrassed at the ill-fit she was trying to remind herself this meant she had a better figure than the tailor's standard, being slightly more buxom without being as thick around the middle.

Blake took her hand and kissed it. "You look lovely, my dear," he said, his tone heartfelt as he admired her.

For a moment the actress' practised expression slipped as she sneered at this. In her profession your clothes and your costumes needed to fit you well so anything else was contemptible. This Tiefling was either incapable of finding a good tailor or she was being very unsubtle in wearing a dress that was too small across the chest to push her breasts up and together into the neckline and make her cleavage more impressive. Admittedly her horns and eyes and ears gave her an exotic aura but she was still fortunate her 'sweetheart' was too busy leering to realise how poorly that dress fitted.

Blake slid a chair out for Neeshka and watched as she sat gracefully. Growing up without a mother or step-mother had required him to learn how to sew to make his own repairs and this had come in useful when stitching his emergency gold into belt and boots. There was rather a gap between that sort of thing and dress alteration though so perhaps best to let a proper tailor deal with giving Neeshka more room to breathe. Even if the effect was one he appreciated.

"I couldn't help but overhear last night," Magda said tentatively, as Blake sat down again, "something about a King of Shadows…"

"Unsurprising," Okku rumbled from where he was lying along the whole length of one edge of the stage. Blake looked towards him and Okku added. "Even if her senses are not as keen as mine, little-one, it is not a surprise she 'could not help but overhear' with as close as she had crept to the corner."

Magda swallowed and a deep blush spread up over her face. She had taken full advantage of her Dwarven eyes being better in the dark than human eyes were and had quietly opened the other door into the large back room. Then without needing any torch, and without bumping into anything as a human might, she had crept through the narrower section and to where she was concealed by the corner and the darkness beyond the pool of light. She had thought her eavesdropping unnoticed as it had gone unchallenged so for the bear-god to so casually reveal it was a bit of a shock. The story had sounded interesting enough she had arranged this breakfast. Suddenly though she felt rather aware of the tales of how Okku was quick to anger and jealous of his privacy.

Blake nodded as he took a bread roll. He'd suspected there was a price to this breakfast and wondered why the other members of the Veil Theatre staff had joined them. It could be these people breakfasted together regularly and today just happened to be one of those mornings but as soon as that thought occurred he'd doubted it. The breakfast was to encourage a good mood and conversation and the four people there to listen and remember. "How much did she hear Okku?" Blake asked as he split the roll and buttered it.

"My ears and nose revealed she had returned even before we began talking, so for a time all she would have heard was the rustling of cloth and the clank of metal as you discarded those coverings."

"In that case you heard I have been cursed as a spirit-eater," said Blake, giving Magda a long hard look. "I was fortunate that details of my fight with Okku seem to have been lost in the night. Gann's advice to not presume Okku would remain patient had that advantage." He paused to consider his next words. "As he advised me then I advise you now. Gossip about my curse could cause trouble for me in trying to find a way to end it, but gossip about Lienna's part in my becoming cursed could cause trouble for you. I have avoided gossiping so I _suggest_ you do the same."

"Hindering a god of bears in fulfilling his oath can be… _unwise_," added Okku.

"Friends, friends, friends," Gann interjected, "no need for threats." Gann looked about between the four members of the Veil Theatre staff. "You have to forgive them," he added with a reassuring smile, "old father bear can be grumpy and the curse makes Blake almost his equal in this when he wakes from the relief of sleep."

Neeshka had noticed the sneer from the actress and, while Blake was distracted by his thoughts and Gann by making his reassurances, she took the chance to catch the actress' eye and glare at her. It took only a few moments of being subjected to the fire of Neeshka's eyes for the actress to be sufficiently intimidated and drop her gaze to the table. With a satisfied smile Neeshka turned to look at Blake instead.

"If you heard what we said," Blake mused, looking at the buttered roll as if answers could be found in it like a scrying ball, "then you heard the origin and nature and deeds of the King of Shadows."

"You seem to think like a historian milord," Magda replied, glad that Blake had not taken offence at her listening. It had been several days but the memory of cleaning up the dismembered Gnolls and Red Wizards this man and his lady had left was still fresh. "To an entertainer though that is all backdrop. Useful in setting the scene but it is what the people do in front of it that matters to a play."

"You want to turn these events into a play?" asked Blake, surprised both by this and by realising his life did have the ingredients. Things had built up gradually so it was only when considering how they might appear to an outsider that it was clear how strange they'd become. Besides with Neeshka to tease him he'd never been impressed by his supposed legend.

"Milord here," Magda said, nodding at Gann, "did express his hope to see a play from us, and you did hope that Oghma would bring us knowledge."

Blake looked at Magda a moment as there seemed rather a difference between that hope and providing that knowledge himself. "I am not sure what else there is to say," he finally said. "A Githzerai called Zhjave guided us in reforging the shattered Sword of Gith and in finding statues that granted us parts of a ritual to weaken the Guardian of Illefarn. A book called the Tome of Illkazar allowed a sage called Aldanon to teleport us to the fortress of the King of Shadows. The ritual powers served to weaken the King of Shadows and the Sword of Gith to destroy it."

"With respect, milord, you make a poor bard," remonstrated Magda. "You mention those names but surely there is a story behind how you met them, a story of how you and they spoke with each other…"

"We did have a bard," Blake sighed. "He was a Gnome called Grobnar and was very enthusiastic about everything. A pair of female Gnome werewolves offered to let him join their pack but he was having too much fun on the adventure to accept. Then having repaired a seven-foot tall Blade Golem he ended up trying to shield this from a rock fall with his own body. I hope he is happy in the heaven he deserves."

"See milord!" Magda exclaimed. "You do know what else there is to say."

Blake looked blank and seeing his expression Neeshka giggled and planted a kiss on his bearded cheek before turning to Magda. "So… here I am creeping along," she began to say, a wicked glint in her eye. "There was a bounty out on bandits and the acting commander of Fort Locke was not fussy about evidence. Being kind of delicate I didn't want to risk trouble so I'd drunk a potion of invisibility to help me get past a group of soldiers, but then that wears off and I get spotted." Neeshka paused and winked at Blake. "Or rather I get seen, always been spotted," she added as she ran a finger across the spots around the bases of her horns, "and the soldiers surround me and begin talking about how much their commander would pay for a Demon-bandit…"

"Mutinous bastard," grumbled Blake. "When we rescued the real commander the Lieutenant wanted him and us to die 'resisting arrest'. Fortunately for the men with him they were not so keen and the Lieutenant ended on the gallows with his neck stretched."

"So I was rather worried," Neeshka continued. "Worried what would happen if I was taken back to Fort Locke, worried they wouldn't bother to take me alive, worried about if they were going to decide to 'have some fun' before dragging me back or killing me. They'd already ordered me to remove my leather armour and I didn't know how much further that would go…"

"Scum," growled Blake. "Befouling their uniforms even more than their Lieutenant Vallis did when his bowels released in death."

"The soldiers were taunting me in my semi-dressed state and saying that perhaps if they tortured me I'd scream for them, their leader seemed especially keen, when someone asked what was going on," Neeshka said, looking down at the table as the memories overcame her usual cheerfulness. Looking back up she tried to smile though this was a weak one. "The life I'd led I'd needed to be able to tell how well trained and equipped guards were so my heart sank a little. The Dwarf looked tough and battle-scarred but the human who'd spoken was young and in cheap armour…"

"Not _that_ cheap," Blake protested, giving Neeshka's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Well, maybe it was," he added after a pause, "by later standards. Hadn't got my Mithril then and was a while before even that armour gained enough enchantments to meet your standards, my love."

Neeshka gave Blake a grateful look for the squeeze before turning back to Magda again. "The soldiers were similarly unimpressed and started mocking them as a smelly Harbourman and a runty Dwarf, but then they made their last mistake."

"Which was?" Gann asked obligingly as Neeshka left that statement hanging and looked around expectantly.

Blake seemed distracted as he looked at the Air Genasi whose motions under the table suggested something rude, an itchy thigh, or that he had something he was making notes on. Hopefully the later although the former could, at a very great stretch, be considered as a compliment to Neeshka's desirability.

"A soldier suggested that if one bandit bounty was good," Neeshka replied with a brilliant grin as the memories of how her ordeal had ended were much better than the fear she'd felt during it, "then three would be even better, and the others agreed."

"Ah," Gann nodded, "and I think I can imagine how that was unwise."

"I was not willing to stand by and let them murder someone," frowned Blake, "but I'd not wanted a fight. These were professional soldiers so I was having trouble accepting they'd be _less_ disciplined or _less_ well trained than the West Harbour Militia. That they were _less_ willing to honour Torm with their duty or Helm as protectors. Looking back I should have realised sooner that words were useless but, at the time, I was still hoping that if I could find the right words they'd remember themselves and start acting the way I'd expected."

"I'd not expected them to be quite so bad," Neeshka admitted, "I'd thought I was going to 'just' be arrested for nothing rather than… but I'm not _so_ much of an idealist as him so I was not _as_ surprised… not until the fight started at least. Blake had barely any magic then and I could tell his sword was similarly lacking." Neeshka paused and winked. "Of course I had to wait to be able to tell that, it was moving about _rather_ fast from when he drew it to the surprisingly short time later when the last of the soldiers were dead on the ground."

Blake raised his eyebrows. "You make it sound like none of them fell to you or Khelgar," he commented mildly, glancing at the others. "Of course, I'd be less happy about her mentioning this had I not spoken to Commander Tann and admitted our actions. Without the pardon given us by him and Marshall Cormick this would be something I'd want to be kept secret." He frowned a little. "And even with the pardon, and that they'd have been executed at court-martial, this is not something I want to boast about."

"You never mentioned we got a pardon!" Neeshka protested. She could understand why her harbour-boy had not told her at the time that he was going to speak to Commander Tann, as that would have been the last he would have seen of her, but he could have mentioned it before now.

"Hmm," mused Gann, "when you spoke of how you hoped you would react if someone told you they had killed some of your men, was that hoping you would emulate this Commander Tann?"

"In part," Blake replied, ignoring Neeshka's protest. "He heard what I said, spoke to the people we had helped so he could judge our character, asked some of the more trusted soldiers about those soldiers and what had been happening, and with the aid of Tyr decided we were truthful and it had been self-defence. That we had been aiding a damsel-in-distress though…"

"I told you I hated those women and the idea of being one," Neeshka muttered.

"So you did," Blake said, having used the term deliberately. "As I was saying, aiding a damsel-in-distress though she had proved as lethal as she was beautiful…"

"Nice save harbour-boy," Neeshka muttered again.

"Was a pleasant surprise," continued Blake. "Fortunately my training had been good enough I managed to concentrate rather than be distracted by the deadly grace Sune has blessed her with…"

The actress' jaw tensed slightly again as she bit back a second comment. She had been tempted to say this Devil-blooded-bimbo could not have been very lethal if she was only as much that as she was beautiful. Now she wanted to say that she was not surprised this bearded foreigner had been able to concentrate rather than be distracted. But even if this pair were unarmed and unarmoured the man still had his magic and the Tiefling her impressive glare. The latter was enough reason to decide her time was better spent using her skills to dimple at Gann and gaze adoringly. It seemed less likely as this boring tale went on that Gann was going to seduce her this morning, but she still hoped to encourage him to make the attempt someday.

"And then she and Khelgar started arguing."

"He started it!" protested Neeshka again.

"Aye, he did," Blake agreed. "But the more you two argued the more convinced I became that you were _both_ right that the other was more trouble to travel with than they were worth. That maybe I should just travel alone rather than have the bickering." Blake looked at Magda. "I think if I'd a spell of Invisibility to mutter quietly and to simply vanish then I might have done."

Neeshka pouted slightly, and looked a little hurt. "I didn't realise I'd made such a bad first impression."

"Well, my first impression was of a pretty girl that needed help," Blake pointed out. "After that it was more the situation."

"Go on, milord" Magda prompted.

"The ground around us was littered with the corpses of men who should have been protecting travellers rather than preying on them and the two of them, one I had known for minutes and the other since late the previous day, seemed to not give a damn," said Blake. He began to look rather dour as he remembered. "Not about that and not about how much trouble killing the soldiers could cause us." Blake gave a slight huh of amusement. "At least it was a better first impression though than Qara made in setting fire to the inn, the Sunken Flagon, which my Uncle owns and where we were staying."

"Hrm," Okku rumbled in amusement, "and better than I did in telling you and your mate to go back and die in the dark."

"Just slightly," Blake smiled before he paused with a frown. "You know, I am not sure if anyone I've ended up travelling with made a completely good first impression on me."

"Not even me?" Gann asked with mock disappointment, as the actress tried to convey with body language and expression how inconceivable it was to her that anyone could fail to be utterly impressed by Gann.

"Not even you," replied Blake, trying to ignore the actress' antics. "I'd found a raconteur where I had hoped for a… well… a Khelgar. When I wanted to travel peacefully to Neverwinter I met a Dwarf who honoured his god Clangeddin with his desire for battle. When I had an army of a bear-god to fight I found a Hagspawn who preferred to talk and seemed blessed by Milil, as little as he believes in him or any other god."

Magda clapped her hands, startling the actress and making Okku's ears twitch. "Character sketches, milord," she said in delight.

"Pardon?" Blake said, baffled.

"First meetings and first impressions," explained and expanded Magda, "how those impressions change, how relationships change from you being willing to walk away from milady here to the pair of you becoming inseparable. That is the heart of a play rather than the dry events."

"The 'dry events' do shape the relationships," Blake frowned, "dangers you face together let you see their courage and skill and test the bonds that are growing."

"Very well," said Magda, not convinced but wanting to encourage Blake to continue speaking. Most of what he said could simply be discarded in the interest of making the play more entertaining, but you had to be blessed by Oghma with knowledge before Milil could bless you with poetry or song. "You mentioned reforging the 'Sword of Gith' and a Githzerai being involved…?"

"Until your friend Lienna and 'the Red Lady' set to work with their knives," groused Blake, not putting it diplomatically, "I had within my chest a shard of the sword once used by Gith herself as she freed her people from Illithid slavery. This shard had cut into me as, literally, a babe-in-arms when the sword had shattered while being used to fight an avatar of the King of Shadows."

"I am surprised you survived," Lothario commented, breaking his listening silence at this implausibility.

"So was everyone else from what I was told," Blake replied, "and had the shard not been slowed by cutting through my mother, and killing her, before entering me where I was in her arms then is likely I would have died there and then. But I survived and the strange wound healed and over the years a link formed between me and that shard and, we found, through it to the other pieces of the sword…"

"Grahhhhh," roared Okku suddenly, startling everyone and making the actress jump before, a moment later, realising the opportunity to 'cringe' against Gann.

"My friend?" Blake asked, wondering what had prompted that reaction.

"_Soooooo…_" breathed Okku, his yellow eyes glowing, "the Red Wizards not only would _not_ have told you about the curse there was also this. They left you in _my_ barrow in pain and with the _hunger_ within you easy to mistake for the loss of this shard and this link. No wonder the curse so took you by surprise when Nakata spoke to you."

"I did feel there was a hole in me, more than the physical one the bandages were covering," Blake confirmed, absently rubbing his chest in memory, "and thought both had the same cause until, to my deep regret, I learned otherwise when the hunger welled up. Thinking back that might explain why they chose me. They needed someone who had something they could assume was the reason for the absence within them and the strange weakness they felt at that loss."

"And they got _the_ Sword of Gith," Neeshka pointed out. "Do you have _any_ idea how much some people would pay for that?"

"Not much idea," admitted Blake, smiling slightly, before adding, "or not as much idea as you my sweet. Enough idea though that it seemed reasonable to think it had been taken for its value and to continue to think this. Okku is probably right though that it was taken to leave me more vulnerable to the plot you spoiled by killing their agent."

"Or it could be both," Neeshka said, unwilling to relinquish the images of rooms full of gold coins.

"That too sounds like a interesting tale," commented Magda, "though not one fit for a play as you have not reached the ending…"

"And because that tale involves Lienna and us Magda," Lothario observed.

"Aye," Sweet Wallace agreed. "Hard to put on a play about events you prefer not to have gossip about." He glanced at Blake and Okku. "And that someone else has warned about provoking gossip about."

"So tell us more about the Githzerai," said Magda, determinedly returning to the subject and ignoring the interruptions that had started with the bear-god's roar.

"It was Zhjave who told me about the link and that I did not just have fragments of _a_ Silver Sword, I had fragments of _the_ Silver Sword," Blake answered obligingly. "We did not have all the pieces but she guided us in a ritual to let us use the link replace the missing parts with magic. This did mean it was my strength keeping the blade intact though and that made it a strain when fighting the King of Shadows as the blade tried to shatter again. The complete blade had shattered on a mere avatar and I was striking the King of Shadows himself with an incomplete one."

Neeshka looked at Blake with open concern. "No wonder you seemed so dazed after and during that fight harbour-boy. I wondered why you were getting so tired and even clumsier than normal."

"Again, interesting," said Magda, wondering how that strain could be conveyed in a play, "but tell us about Zhjave. First meetings and first impressions."

"First meeting was when we had rescued her from imprisonment by followers of the King of Shadows," Blake replied. "The sage Aldanon assured that the Githzerai and the Githyanki, who had been attacking us, were very different peoples but I still had my qualms."

"She was lucky you were nice," observed Neeshka. "I was thinking she could answer your questions from a cell and earn her release."

"At least my judgement was not affected by the pretty-girl effect," Blake chuckled, "even if I am being unfair to make her appearance sound important that part of my first impressions were not good. I think if she had been twenty or thirty years younger and her skin less leathery I would have appreciated her usual outfit more."

"You do need to know how to dress appropriately," said the Actress, risking another sneer at Neeshka's slightly tight bosomed dress before dropping her eyes again to pretend demureness and avoid meeting Neeshka's glare again.

"Fortunately she was able to wear heavy armour," Blake said, missing the look as he thought about Zhjave, "and that was her best choice. What mattered more however was that she wanted the King of Shadows defeated, felt I was her best chance at this, and wanted to help me in this… even if she wanted to _only_ help me in this and had that extra twenty or thirty years of being a cleric… a Zerthamon… to help her."

"I am not sure I follow, milord," Magda frowned.

"She wanted to tell me what I needed to know to fight the King of Shadows and no more and no less," explained Blake. "Anything she felt I did not need to know she had the age and experience to guard her words and give an answer cloaked in vague mysticism rather than something useful. Again I am, perhaps, being unfair as she did give some useful advice, we'd not have known of the rituals to weaken the Guardian of Illefarn without her, and was a staunch ally…"

"Until she abandoned us," Neeshka interjected.

"Aye, until then," agreed Blake. "This is likely why I am being unfair as my resentment of that does rather taint my memories of her. When the King of Shadows was killed his fortress began to collapse and in the few seconds it took him to die and us to realise we needed to escape Zhjave had already vanished. She shifted back to her own plane and made her own escape rather than remain with us to help. Once the King of Shadows was dead, and she no longer had any use for us, it seemed she was perfectly happy to leave us to die."

"Hmm, there may be a way to slant that," Magda pondered, almost to herself. "Make her the twenty years younger, prettier, less experienced, and more determined to do the right thing even if that conflicts with instructions or a desire to not reveal too much."

"With the bra-top she was wearing when we met, and wore when she was not in armour," Neeshka said with mock-sweetness, "I think Zhjave did reveal too much."

Blake ignored this outwardly, though inwardly he agreed, as he addressed Magda. "That sounds more like Elanee, an Elven druid who was supposed to observe and learn and report but decided to aid us…"

"Decided to aid _you_ harbour-boy," interrupted Neeshka, still touchy about the subject of Elanee. "The rest of us she didn't care about."

"Milord, we are only a small theatre company," Magda replied to Blake calmly, "and that and the demands of a play mean we might have to combine people in the tale."

"Aye," murmured the Air Gensai, Blake relieved to see the motions were that he was scribbling more notes, "too many characters in a play confuse the audience and especially if the same actors are playing them."

"You doubt my skill at making each character distinct?" protested Lothario.

"Very well then," Magda said, defusing the protest. "Too many roles per actor means too many costume changes and too much wasted time."

"That I will accept," Lothario smiled, though visions of a triumphal one-man show still danced inside him.

"Well," said Neeshka contemplatively, "Elanee and Zhjave did have it in common they abandoned us…"

"Elanee _left_ us," Blake corrected with a sigh. "She had already given us more aid…"

"Overstayed her welcome longer," muttered Neeshka quietly enough for Blake to pretend to not hear.

"Than the normal aloof-Druid-neutrality would allow," Blake continued. "Enough aid that the corrupted remnants of the Circle of the Mere objected to her actions and tried to kill her. She _trusted_ us to put a stop to the spread of shadow so she _left_ us to begin to rebuild the Circle of the Mere alongside Elder Naevan."

"Rather than stay alongside you to make sure of a 'stop to the spread of shadow'," grumbled Neeshka.

"Not that you were sorry to see her go."

"True enough," admitted Neeshka with a grin, "but it still seemed if she'd been around that long, despite my hints, she could have finished the job."

"Given a choice between us and Elder Naevan it was quite right she choose him, and that was what I told her" Blake replied, to Neeshka's surprise. "Her obligation to him and to the land was the greater. She mentioned once that had been found as an orphaned baby in the swamp by the First of their Circle and if Elder Naevan was their leader then, as he was when we rescued him, then he would be her _first_ as well as _only_ surviving foster-parent."

Magda clapped her hands again. "Right! First meeting, first impressions, then you can tell me about this bard and the female werewolves."

Blake looked at Magda a moment and then across the table at Gann, and the actress who was still sitting very close to him after her 'cringe'. Gann smiled and tilted the glass of fruit juice he was holding in salute. Blake hesitated. However nice this breakfast was, and between sentences he'd been able to eat enough to know it was very nice, he was beginning to think it was not nice enough for this much storytelling. They had done what they had done against the King of Shadows and it seemed it was not the concern of these people what he'd thought of his friends and allies.

"Come on harbour-boy," Neeshka demanded with another grin as she saw the reluctance, "you know that if _you_ don't tell her about Elanee then _I_ will and you'll probably start commenting and correcting again."

"Yes, you and she did not get on," said Blake with a notable lack of enthusiasm for gossiping. "Very well. We had solved some problems at Fort Locke…"

"'Some problems'," Neeshka chuckled. "Had rescued hostages from bandits, Commander Tann from undead and returned him to the fort…"

"And were on the road to the village of Highcliff," continued Blake, "when we were confronted by a Bladeling and some Grey-Dwarves…"

With many comments from Neeshka as he spoke Blake tried to carry on with the tale. To speak of how vines had sprung up and ensnared the feet of their enemies and that they had then seen an Elven female in simple clothing and carrying a sickle bounding down the hillside. How she had aided them against those foes and been rewarded by Khelgar and Neeshka with comments about 'Tree Worshippers' but still been willing to show them a shorter road. How Neeshka and Elanee had bickered from that first meeting onwards. The whole time the Air Genasi was scribbling away as if he had a flea in his trouser leg.

Blake paused and looked at Gann. "Of course had I been our Shaman friend here I'd have realised sooner why there seemed an extra edge to their disagreement. Both because he is perceptive and because he'd have found it easier to accept two pretty girls were competing over him. Even when that thought occurred I dismissed it as unlikely, never had that happen to me back in West Harbour…"

"Harbour-girls must have poor taste then," said Neeshka, with a smile.

"Or settled things more privately," Gann mused, "though this comes back to 'dry events' shaping things." He saw the others were not sure what he meant, even if the actress was giving him an admiring look at his insight anyway. "In a village the ladies could talk privately and approach the man of their choice separately. If they are travelling with him, sharing a campsite or an inn, having to make decisions together, and disagreeing over those decisions then there is not that privacy."

"I think it was only when they teamed up on poor Shandra that I began to get an inkling," chuckled Blake. "They were both hostile when she was rude to me and they both disliked the idea of her travelling with us when her house was burned down by Githyanki. Neeshka was much happier when she decided the only reason was because we needed her help to enter her grandfather's hidden haven."

"I expect she was," said Gann smoothly, with a slight wink to Neeshka, "and not that you have ever acted in a similar way. You have shown no concern and no jealousy over the effect on her of having someone as handsome as me travelling with you."

Neeshka whistled. "Whew, could cut that sarcasm with a club," she said in an impressed tone.

The actress cast her gaze down as she controlled another comment and stopped herself from saying there was nothing to worry about as Gannayev had better taste in women than to make any attempt. Or that had he made the attempt there would have been nothing this foreigner could have done to prevent it save brute violence.

"Shandra? Grandfather's hidden haven?" prompted Magda as Blake struggled to think of a witty reply to Gann. He wanted to laugh it off rather than admit the fears he'd had at the dockside yesterday, but the only ways he could think to reply might imply he thought Neeshka had been being rude to Shandra or Elanee.

"A sage called Aldanon mentioned a court wizard called Ammon Jerro…" Blake said, relieved to be back on less personal ground despite his dislike of storytelling.

The tale broadened out to include other places they had travelled and other people they had met. As Magda had requested Blake did tell her about Grobnar and the female Gnome werewolves, but that led to talking about the slaughter of the village of Ember and his murder trial. It was all told in a rather unstructured manner with comments leading to questions leading to asides leading to comments and the morning was well advanced before a voice-weary Blake managed to escape further speaking and Gann managed to escape the clutches of the actress. He'd had and made no objection to her attentions, but it was noticeable that he did not demur the idea of gathering their things and leaving immediately Neeshka had donned her cloak.

They wandered down to the docks, Neeshka muttering at the lack of paving as she had to hold up her skirts out of the mud, and down them to the far end where they saw Vaszil looking over the Witchboat. He seemed happy enough with the condition they had returned it in and with the praise and thanks they gave him as well as some gold to compensate for the stores they had used. After some more expressions from him of what an honour it had been to help the 'great bear-god' they headed back up and towards the gates out of the city.

Neeshka's muttering over her tail being confined and having to hitch her skirts up had increased enough they were not going to travel far outside the gates before they changed but it seemed better to do this away from prying eyes. As she haggled over the selling price of a few of the things they'd found with the Bheur and elsewhere a little girl suddenly moved out of the shadows of the city wall and towards them. Remembering the street children in Neverwinter Blake made sure his hand was on his coin-pouch and that she was neither going to 'bump into him' nor, glancing around, that she was a distraction for other attackers. A subtle motion from Neeshka made Blake confident his love had also noticed this and was alert.

"Spirit-eater, please speak with me," the little girl said, irritating Blake further by calling him that in public. "I have little time here, but my tribe can help you to learn more about your Gift."

"My _gift_?" Blake growled, a growl slightly echoed by Okku. "Do you mean my _curse_?"

"A curse is what the witches would have you believe," replied the little girl, turning apparently almost guileless eyes on Blake. "The Gift is the power that you possess as the spirit-eater. Beings who possess the Gift are revered among the Hill Tribe. The Witches though seek to control you like they have done with other spirit-eaters in the past, by manipulating or hunting them."

"Grrrrrr," Okku rumbled at that repetition. "Gift?"

"What do you know of the Witches?" demanded Blake, without hostility but without letting his attitude soften because he was speaking to a child.

"Long have the Witches that rule Mulsantir hunted the Hill Tribe," the little girl said, before an expression of fear came to her face. "If they caught me here I would share the fate of my parents and so many others of my people. But, I was sent by my grandsire, Headman U'juk."

"He risks his granddaughter?" Blake frowned, disliking that almost as much their attitude towards the curse.

"He trusted me with this message, that he wishes to share with you knowledge of your Gift," explained the little girl. "Knowledge that the witches of Mulsantir don't wish you to possess. I cannot tell you more, but my tribe greatly wishes to meet you spirit-eater. Would you come to visit the Hill Tribe?"

A low growl bubbled up through Okku's chest and throat. "I think we _should_… visit… them, little one."

"Where is your tribe?" Blake asked, glancing at Okku.

"You will find the Hill Tribe in the Wells of Lurue," the little girl said, also glancing at Okku. "Normally we stay well hidden, but I will keep watch for your coming spirit-eater. I must go, I am in danger here."

As she dashed away Blake was not sure if she meant danger from the Witches or from Okku. There was a cough behind him.

"Be cautious here," Gann warned, "she was not what she seems. However innocent the face she was showing that was not truth, or not entirely."

"_Caution_?" Okku roared loud enough to draw a glance from the gate-guard before he lowered his voice, as much as a bear-god ever did. "Their tribe thinks devouring spirits is a Gift! We should hunt them as the Witches have and rend them with tooth and claw and show them the wrath of the Spirits!"

"There seems more to your reaction than that my friend," commented Blake.

"Hrrmm. Maybe," Okku admitted. "Memories of life are fleeting for me now, but I do remember those Wells as being important to my clan of bears while we lived. That those that worship your curse should lair there, of all places, does add to my rage… though not by much."

"It would make sense they would be important with such a name," nodded Blake, "Lurue is the _Queen of Talking Beasts_…"

"Beasts?" Okku protested.

"That is her title, or one of them, but my apologies my friend. Perhaps I should have said she was Goddess of those with intelligence that do not look human, or Orcish, or Elven, or …well, you get the idea."

Okku rumbled and nodded. "No, no… little-one. I know that is one of her titles. I am merely sensitive. There are those that put a meaning into their use of _Beast_ that you did not, but my protest still came."

"So, where to then harbour-boy?" Neeshka asked, having rejoined them in time to get the gist of the discussion. "To find out what these people have to say, before Okku kills them, or to this Sunken City?"

"I think… this Hill Tribe would not have much to _say_ to us," Blake said, thinking aloud. "We know this curse passes to another when the host dies. I think they would want to kill me as much for not using it as Okku wants to kill them for suggesting it should be used." Blake paused and looked at the bear-god. "Or almost as much as Okku wants to kill them." There was a low rumbling growl of agreement in reply before Blake continued, "I know it is not your nature Okku, but I will ask you to be patient. Gann has waited to learn the answers he may get from our visit to the Sunken City, and I think with all the extra journeying our visit to Ashenwood involved he has waited long enough."

"Grrmmmm," conceded Okku. "Very well little one, we shall let them live a while longer."


	12. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

They went out through the gate, watched by the Guard who was still not sure how this outlander had gone out into the dark as the prey of the bear-god and returned from that battle as his ally. There were strange rumours of him speaking to Nak'kai, the shaman of the Berserker Lodge, and that he had been given use of a Witchboat. The three half-celestials that had also fought Okku had not given away much as when the large brother in the antler helmet was drawn into talking of the fight his sister with the shorter hair and grey skin had quietened him. And whatever the Witches knew and had said in their discussions with mighty Okku and the outlander they were not sharing with the common folk. Not that the Witches had any reason to as it was them rather than their inferiors that were blessed with the wisdom of the spirits.

Down the road and around a bend and behind a windbreak of trees Blake and the others paused. "I doubt anyone will give us trouble while we are in your company, my friend," Blake commented to Okku, "but as pretty as that dress is on Neeshka it is not intended for long walks…"

"As she has been saying," rumbled Okku, "continuously."

"So we had better change to more practical garb."

Okku nodded and settled down to keep guard while his mortal companions went their three separate ways to quickly don their armour. As Blake dressed and resisted the temptation to peek to one side and watch Neeshka, a temptation that was why he was in the middle as he did not trust Gann to resist it, he pondered how much armour to actually wear. It would be a rare bandit that would dare challenge Okku so in that regard any armour was unnecessary. With a shrug Blake decided he might as well wear all his armour even if he did have a sweetheart who was so well supplied with magic bags as well as being keen, perhaps a little too keen, to find things to fill them with.

Fairly soon Blake was dressed and found that, as expected, he was the slowest since he had that many more pieces and layers to his armour. With a harrumph Okku set off down the road and shrugging again Blake set off after him. The trip was a fairly short one and as, despite the lack of splendour compared with other sections, this road was still part of 'The Golden Way' there were regular milestones and the occasional rough stone shelter or wooden hut for travellers to use. They'd set out at a strange time and were travelling at a strange pace, slower than horseback but faster than a laden cart, so it was a few hours into darkness before they reached the next shelter after the one it had been a little early to stop at.

The next day went just as peacefully as though the road did not go directly to the Sunken City the guidance of the spirits to Gann and Okku was enough to take them down the right trail off it. This guidance was fortunate as going by the map Blake had been a little surprised. Gann cheerfully blamed Blake's map reading skills for that and was quite smug about not needing a map himself. Blake felt more inclined to blame the standard of the map since it did not seem Deneir had blessed this cartographer with accuracy, but accepted Gann's teasing.

It was late afternoon of that day before they began to approach the shores of the lake and to see the sun dipping down and behind the ruins jutting out it. The way the sunlight sparkled on the water and shone shafts of light through the empty window frames of the ruined walls was quite picturesque. However the great tentacles whipping up out of the lake spoiled the scene and those and the corpses washed up along the shore discouraged any thoughts of swimming or enjoying the beach.

"I can smell rotting and corruption in the air, and it isn't you spirit-eater," rumbled Okku, making Blake wonder what the bear-god's point was since growing up in a swamp had made that sort of smell unremarkable to him. "It is a stench of bloated corpses and twisted spirits."

"There is indeed a sunken city here," Gann added, gesturing out at what was visible, "beneath the ebb and flow of the waves with only ruins to be seen. Perhaps the fall of night shall grant us a bridge, though I fear what that would gain us. We will not be the only petitioners at this gate."

"You sound uneasy, my friend," said Blake gently, "and more than the scene would provoke."

"It is said that one cannot go home again, but for me this is the first time", replied Gann, looking around and his lips tightening as he saw more that was strangely familiar to him. "I have walked to this place many times in my dreams. To be here in the waking world, it is a little unsettling."

"I can only imagine," Blake nodded. "Let us hope though that Shaundakul has blessed our exploration and that your dreams have given you insight so together we can prevent reality becoming a nightmare."

"Thank you," said Gann, with a very slight bow of his head, "but for now let us seek insight from that fellow walking the shore."

Blake nodded to Gann again and cautiously approached the man. He did not seem too troubled by the corpses or that interested in them and he looked too prosperous to be a corpse-scavenger. What other reason for patrolling this shoreline there was though escaped Blake. The man glanced over at Blake's deliberately open approach and raised both eyebrows in surprise and greeting.

"Welcome to the middle of nowhere stranger. If you have come to join old Fentomy then well met, if you have come for the fishing then you'll be sorely disappointed."

"I've not come for the fishing, I doubt much worth catching escapes the owners of those tentacles," Blake replied before adding, "and since 'Fentomy' means 'false face' in the language of geniekind I suspect fishing is not your purpose either."

"Ah!" said Fentomy with some exasperation. "Perhaps I should have chosen a cleverer name, but my little jest amused me. You are correct, this is not my true nature. I am, in truth, a Dao. When visiting more primitive worlds such as this I typically adopt a form that will not alarm the indigenous inhabitants."

"Thank you for your consideration," Blake replied, not insulted and not completely sarcastic. "So what does draw you to visit here? With the corpses and tentacles to spoil it this seems a less than pleasant spot."

"Oh… this and that," said Fentomy vaguely. "I may tell you if we meet again, but until then all I will say is to point out this journal. It belonged to a fisherman who made the mistake of lingering here after nightfall. Farewell, and good fortune."

With that Fentomy began wandering away higher up the beach. Blake looked at him for a moment and then shrugged and decided that even with the reputation of genies there seemed little chance of a trap in that advice. Moving closer to the shore Blake reached out and picked the journal up off the crate on which it was resting and began flipping through what pages had not been stuck together by damp from waves or rain.

"Hmm. Oghma has blessed us with knowledge, though Deneir did not bless this man's penmanship. The handwriting is not good and it has got wet which makes it worse…" complained Blake. "Ah, this fellow was here to fish out corpses to strip rather than to fish for fish." He nodded with a very slight chuckle. "And it seems Fentomy did get some amusement from using that name as the fisherman thought he was just some bloke… but this part is interesting. A 'black swirling eye just appeared on the shore'… does that sound like a shadow-portal to anyone else?"

"Sounds like it to me harbour-boy," Neeshka agreed.

"Aye," replied Blake, looking through a few more pages of ill-written scrawl, "Gann's insight served him well, or he guessed right, when he said the fall of night might bring a bridge."

"Insight, of course," Gann said with mock hauteur. "Guessing is a habit I rarely fall into."

Blake prodded one finger at an entry in the journal. "I don't like the sound of 'evil creatures from the Hells'…"

"Is a little redundant," Neeshka smiled, teasing Blake over whether he meant the content or the writing style, "they'd hardly be good creatures from the Hells…"

"So we had better not camp in plain sight," continued Blake with a half-smile, "while we wait for dusk and the shadow portal."

They went back up the beach and built a small fire in the shelter of one of the dunes. As Blake lit this he looked around to make sure that there was nothing this firelight was playing on that would be too visible from the shore. In some ways the 'object' that was causing the most trouble was Okku as he was quite large and visible even without any extra light. He rumbled a little but moved around to between the fire and the shore to further shade it. Nobody had much to say as they waited as the mortals were tired from the walk and Gann in particular was quiet. He was uneasy and thinking silently about his dreams of this place so that depressed his usual chatter.

Blake settled himself comfortably with Neeshka snuggled against him, perfectly content to use his chest as a cushion despite the Mithril breastplate and chainmail over it, and enjoyed the quiet. Slowly the stars above began to become visible as the sky shaded from blue to purple to black. Eventually though he had to disturb her and break into Gann's thoughts, satisfy Okku's impatience, and move. As Okku buried the remains of the fire with one paw swipe through the sand Blake moved cautiously to peer over the top of the dune and saw nothing moving save the tireless tentacles and the energies gently writhing around the edge of a shadow-portal.

"Aye," Blake said with some regret. "Our guess, sorry… our guesses and Gann's insight… were right."

"Then let us take advantage of this little-one," rumbled Okku, annoyed at the delay waiting for night had caused and his determination outweighing any reluctance to enter the Shadow Plane yet again.

Blake nodded and led the way towards the portal, pausing before it to make a few quick spells to add to those persisting upon him, and then passing through and into the gloom of shadows. At first things seemed little changed as though without moon or stars it was harder to see them against the blacker sky the shape of the ruins against that sky appeared the same. Then Blake noticed there was now a wooden walkway stretching out into the lake rather than just a pair of lines of posts and that the nearest pair of posts was far closer to the water's edge. For a moment he was not sure if it was just an extra pair of posts but glancing to his right he saw a building that now had shoreline mud within its walls rather than lake water so it was that the lake was lower here.

"That explains that," Gann murmured, gesturing at the altered shoreline, "I had wondered at seeing buildings above the waves in my dreams, and why those of my mother's kind would live somewhere as damp sounding as a Sunken City."

"It still looks rather damp, my friend," replied Blake.

Gann nodded in acknowledgement as Blake turned his attention to an even more obvious difference between before and after they had entered the portal. Had the figure standing between them and the walkway greeted them in that form before then they'd have not needed his unimaginative alias to recognise his nature, him being a huge man in a Turban wearing a waistcoat over a bare chest would have been more than enough clue. For a moment Blake considered if they could get past without speaking to him as they did not need any extra complications. However there seemed no way to do that without being rude and Blake was not eager to go out onto the walkway considering how creaky it looked. Besides even if they were emerging from the water further from the walkway than they'd been from the posts this Shadow Plane lake did still have those huge tentacles waving from it.

"Ah, you've made it here," greeted Fentomy as they approached. "I knew you didn't seem like the average beach-combing adventurer."

"Thank you for that compliment, if compliment it was," Blake replied, "and since you are greeting us I take it you may be willing to share your purpose this time?"

"I run one of the largest gem mining operations in the Great Dismal Delve," said Fentomy, with a practised and slightly smarmy smile. "But our daily yield has been reduced due to sabotage by one of my rivals. To recover my profits I need a heavy lifter. A being of great strength and power, but easily controllable."

"_That_," Okku growled, "was a very colourful way of saying you seek a _slave_…"

Blake glanced over his shoulder and then nodded. "I do not tolerate slavery."

"Neither do I," snarled Okku, exposing some teeth. "Wretched Dao, I should liberate your head from your shoulders and free you of your foolish beliefs."

"Please," Fentomy protested, managing to look almost genuinely insulted, "slavery is a distasteful descriptor and not appropriate in this case. Your assumption says more of you than of me."

"Then what do you mean?" asked Blake.

"Are the oxen that hauled the materials to make your weapons and equipment slaves?" Fentomy said, sounding like he had given these examples before. "Or what of the Golems that stand guard over Wizard's towers? Are they slaves?"

"I suppose not," agreed Blake, before adding with a slight glower, "though animals should still not be mistreated."

"Well… leaving animals aside then," Fentomy said, retreating from one of his examples, "a Golem is simply a tool to be used. It does not have the intelligence or, like an animal, the emotions to be more than something to be used to spare mortal labour. I am just looking for another tool myself. There is a being I can use beneath Coveya Kurg'annis. It is among the mightiest of the Earth Elementals bound to this plane."

"Why would there be an Earth Elemental beneath this city?" asked Blake in a reasonable tone.

"I don't know," Fentomy reluctantly admitted. "Whatever function it once served the mortals that bound it to this place are long dead and so long incapable of sharing what their purpose had been. I simply need you to vanquish this Earth Elemental so it will return to the Elemental Plane of Earth where I have the means to bind it to my service."

"So, its function _could_ be something that is still useful," Blake pointed out. Fentomy did not dispute that and after a moment Blake continued. "I do not wish to seem unhelpful but I am afflicted with a centuries old curse. I would prefer to not delay speaking to the Slumbering Coven by taking your task, nor to risk angering them if the Elemental _would_ be missed from beneath their city."

"Any delay you suffer by aiding me would be irrelevant," replied Fentomy, his smarmy salesman's smile making a return, "and you may even see the Slumbering Coven sooner by performing this task."

"Explain," Blake frowned, "please."

"This 'Slumbering Coven', this group of overstated prophets who spout advice to these lesser creatures you see milling about," said Fentomy, before adding as he remembered that was why Blake and his friends were there, "no offence…"

"None taken," Blake replied truthfully, though Okku grumbled slightly.

"They just stopped admitting audiences a short time ago for reasons unknown to me," continued Fentomy. "There is no guarantee how long it will be before they start seeing people again, and even if this was _soon_ there is a long line of petitioners ahead of you. However they could also be reached from beneath the building, where the Earth Elemental is and where I can gain you access."

"So… I would get to bypass the queue and you would get your Earth Elemental. This seems a fine deal, aside from that I would be intruding upon the Slumbering Coven rather than being invited before them. Oh, and the risk as I said before that the Elemental might be missed."

"That may not be as great a problem as you think," Gann commented, breaking his unusual silence. "Hags can be a practical people. Given a choice between answering questions and attempting to force us to leave… Well, one would allow them to listen to their own voices and show off their knowledge and the other could leave them and their guards dead."

"And even if, despite this fine fellow's words, you feel my plan would give you little chance of gaining your answers," argued Fentomy, "that would still be more chance than if you never get to see this Slumbering Coven at all."

"Going in the sneaky way sounds good to me harbour-boy," Neeshka said, giving Blake a quick grin.

"It would, dear," Blake replied fondly. "Very well, I trust Gann's judgement of how the Coven might react so we shall exchange services and destroy the Earth Elemental for you Fentomy."

"Excellent," said Fentomy with unhidden satisfaction. From somewhere in his outfit or thin air he drew out a metal object. "Here is the key. You will find the entrance on the west side of the building. This leads to the partially flooded passageways beneath the Coven, a place known as the Skein. Return to me once you have slain the Earth Elemental. Do not fail me and you will be handsomely rewarded."

Taking the key Blake walked along the wooden walkway and towards the dome that even his merely human eyes could see now. It appeared the same building, like the other ruins, as outside the Shadow Plane but this did show how different the level of the lake was between planes. The fading daylight those hours ago had glinted off water that was high enough to partially cover the roof. Here though the water barely reached the base of what looked like the upper storey. This was fortunate for the two Hagspawn Blake noticed as even the very large one of the pair of them would have had to learn to breathe water to be able stand guard outside that door.

As Fentomy had warned there were 'lesser creatures' milling about and Blake paused to consider them. The presence of an Illithid was annoying enough to almost make Blake wish there were some Githyanki around. What was even more irritating was a smallish Ogre in chainmail who took that pause as a chance to begin calling out insults directed at their equipment. This seemed to be his way of trying to persuade them they needed better things such as he could sell them. Blake ignored him though as even if he was not sure about Gann's spear and leathers he knew the quality of his own and especially of Neeshka's equipment. Though to be fair, Blake mused, the armour and rapier he'd spent so much on as a present were concealed under the cloak along with her perky horns and lissom tail so perhaps the Ogre's judgement was not quite as abysmal as it might have been otherwise.

Okku suddenly stopped and sniffed and rumbled deep in his chest. "Can it be?" Okku asked, almost rhetorically. "The scent of my spirit-kin, in this foul place… _why_ would my spirit-kin be petitioners at this place? Perhaps the foul reek of this place confounds my sense of smell… but these pups have an unnatural stench to them."

"We can spare some time," Blake replied, "so let us find out."

"I was _not_ waiting for permission…" murmured Okku, "but… thank you anyway."

Giving the group of Fire Genasi loitering near an outhouse a respectfully wide berth, and ignoring the sneer the one in finer clothes still gave them, they saw Okku's nose was right. The walkway did not extend far to the left, ending at the corner of the building rather than wrapping around it the other way, but there was enough of it for a group of Telthors. Okku rumbled as his eyes confirmed what his nose had scented and as he could smell more of these spirit's stench.

Noticing Okku's approach a Telthor Wolf glanced at his fellow spirits before he spoke. "The Bear-King has left his barrow. How strange," he commented, looking less like a proud wolf and more like a puppy seeking approval from his audience.

"And he keeps with flesh and blood beings," replied a Telthor Bear, its rumbling voice sounding almost squeaky to ears used to Okku. It added with mock surprise and some glances around the group, "how confusing."

"Well met spirits," Blake said politely as Okku glowered a little at them for commenting to each other rather than greeting him, "what brings you here?"

"Brothers, this one speaks to us," sneered the Telthor Wolf. "I _understand_ the language, but _lack_ the willingness to hear it."

"They're lucky that you're my sweetie-pie harbour-boy aren't they," Neeshka whispered, leaning in to speak almost directly into Blake's ear. "Some might have _understood_ the rudeness, and _lacked_ the willingness to hear it."

Okku's ear twitched as despite her quietness he caught Neeshka's words. "Children," he rumbled, deep enough to confirm the Telthor Bear sounded like a cub by comparison, "you _will_ hear the words of my friend as if they were my own and you _will_ answer his question."

"We shall," the Telthor Wolf replied, accepting the order but adding, "though we _do_ still wonder why you are so far from your barrow."

"This two-legged one suffers from an… illness," Okku said vaguely. "The affliction will spread to the land if it goes uncured, thus I am duty bound to protect him until he is cured. And you children, _I_ still wonder why you are here, in this awful place so far away from your home?"

"But this is very near our land," commented the Telthor Bear. "We roam the darkness beyond the cliffs and feed on the corpses that wash ashore."

"What _nonsense_ is this?" Okku growled in disgust. "Why would you behave as _vultures_ and feed on carrion?"

"We do what comes naturally, cousin bear," a Telthor Wolverine said, breaking his silence and sounding unashamed.

Okku's growl could be felt in the wood of the walkway it was so low and resonant. "These Telthors act as common beasts and disgrace my kind. Such petulant children should be disciplined… by fear or by fang."

"I agree," Blake said, as the Telthors began to look unsure. "Something needs to be done here and we have both those choices available."

"It has been too long since I have disciplined a wayward pup, I will enjoy this," roared Okku, his colours flashing in the dark of the Shadow Plane. "_Worthless_ corpse-gnawing maggots! Lower your heads and flee my sight! I will give you a moment's head start…and if I catch you, I will tear off your limbs and shove down your gullets a feast of your _own_ carrion… Now run!"

That the Telthors obeyed was not much surprise though it was also no surprise to Blake, glancing around, that Gann had been pseudo-casually leaning on his spear and that Neeshka's hand had, like his own, been close to the hilt of a sword. As the Telthors fled and Okku glared at them to encourage them to continue there was a third lack of surprise that the Hagspawn Guards were looking in their direction. The smaller one seemed to be reassuring the larger to calm down and the larger seemed to have enjoyed the show and be commenting enthusiastically.

"Did we have to be _quite_ so noisy?" Neeshka complained, using her skills to look at the Guards without appearing to do so. "Believe me, if you want to sneak in the side way the last thing you want is to attract the attention of the guards and they are watching us now."

"Ah, but they were watching us already, or rather watching _you_," Gann pointed out. "Guards seek any diversion to relive the tedium of their duties and that you are concealed beneath that cloak only means the strain is on their imagination rather than their eyes."

Blake turned to look at Gann, using that as an excuse to sweep his gaze across the Guards and see that as expected Neeshka was right. Gann smiled and raised one hand in a warding-off gesture, "I know. Not too much imagination or eyes… look, maybe, but don't stare and certainly don't touch. You and your lady have made that clear."

"Hmmm," Blake smiled back, "and I think you are right. With her grace even a cloak cannot make her less than eye-catching, which shows how impossible it would have been had I tried to design her armour to be dowdier and try to hide how beautiful she is."

"Hey! I like this armour, and no need to talk _about_ me rather than _to_ me," Neeshka protested. "We still have the problem of the guards, whether they were attracted by me or, more likely, by the giant multicoloured spirit bear shouting at other spirits."

There was not much room on the walkway, especially for Okku, but they did their best to get some distance from the door guards without passing too close to the Genasi or the Illithid. Blake did not think this attempt was doing much good as he knew it would take a lot to stop him looking at Neeshka and he expected the same was true of those bored Hagspawn. Perhaps if they retreated further down the walkway they could conceal themselves? He had a spell of invisibility prepared and Neeshka was sneaky and Gann might have some gift of the spirits… but that would leave the problem of the unwilling and probably incapable Okku…

Then an ugly voice hissed out at him. "Spirit-Eater! You betray the Gift!" a little ape-thing Blake vaguely recognised as perhaps being something called an Uthraki challenged. "If this was a place more private I would hasten your inevitable destruction."

Blake glanced from that Uthraki to the other two just visible around the corner. He had become tired of being addressed as spirit-eater and allowing himself to take insult here could perhaps give them an opportunity other than finding out if Neeshka's innate talent could make the Shadow Plane darker. That _Darkness_ would have hidden what they did but not that they were doing something so this could be better. Blake gave thanks to _Lady Luck _for compensating for how he was failing _The Lady of Strategy_ with his lack of ideas.

"Let's find some place more private then…"

"You are right to yearn for a quick death," interrupted the Uthraki, "and I will provide it to you so the Gift may pass to one more worthy. Meet me on the dark side of this building when you are prepared for your end."

"What an arrogant creature!" Okku growled as the Uthraki bounded away and around the corner to the welcome of his friends. "These disgusting apes have changed little in the years of my slumber."

"Aye! He deserves death…" replied Blake loudly, dropping his voice to add, "and it also provides a reason why we are going around the side of the building."

Neeshka glanced at the guards who did seem to have seen the exchange of threats and to have heard her harbour-boy declare his apparent reasons. This was hardly the most masterful deception but that those little ape-things didn't look like the sort to cooperate in any plans might have tipped it in their favour. She frowned a little as she glanced again and realised there was something familiar about the rhythm of how the Hagspawn were talking.

"Hrmm," Okku replied, as quietly as a bear-god could and his expression showing what he thought of trickery rather than honest vengeance. "I hope your first reason was the main reason, little one."

"I think they are making bets," commented Neeshka softly, with another glance across. "I wonder what odds I could get on us."

"They may look brutish," Gann smiled, also keeping his voice low, "but even Hagspawn know that if someone bets they will survive then if they lose the bet and die that also means they cannot pay up."

"She is blessed by Sune so she'd dazzle them with her smile," said Blake, pulling off his hat and pulling up his chainmail hood, "the problem would be them expecting us to come back to collect."

"That would be the drawback of her persuasiveness, but a curse she has to live with possessing such charm."

Neeshka frowned at Blake and Gann as her harbour-boy donned his helmet and began to strap his huge clumsy shield to his arm. She didn't want those two arguing but it was almost worse when they started getting on. She'd seen Blake's sense of humour but, aside from Grobnar, the friends they had travelled with before were rather less light hearted than Gann so she'd not seen him sparking off someone that way. It was good though seeing her harbour-boy joking despite the curse so she hoped this would persist when he was cured and when they managed to return to the Sword Coast.

After a pause and a glance at the Hagspawn guards Neeshka reluctantly unbuckled her cloak and began folding it away into one pack. As she'd feared the smaller one poked the larger one in the ribs and made some comment that made his friend chuckle in agreement. Blake's head whipped around at the chuckle and for a moment as he saw how the Hagspawn were leering things hung in the balance. With an effort he reminded himself that of the three gifts Sune had blessed his beloved with it was only her beauty these guards could admire rather than them sharing her love or her passion. And tried to not dwell on the lack of privacy meaning he had not been able to share her passion recently.

It seemed better to honour the plan the Red Knight had given by taking his frustration out on the Uthraki and to count his blessings. Neeshka's presence might be a reminder that he could not, for now, honour Sharess by trying to ensure Neeshka was sensually fulfilled but the happiness Neeshka's presence brought him was a blessing from Lilira, the _Joybringer_. As Blake rounded the corner he saw the Uthraki and that they seemed to have been working each other up into a frenzy. They were breathing heavily and one was slightly drooling in anticipation. Blake quietly began to chant.

Seeing their approach the one that had challenged them tensed and snarled and exposed long canine teeth. "Now you die!"

Blake did not reply other than to finish his spell and, to nobody's surprise but the Uthraki's, the large parent ball of flame of a _Firebrand_ formed in front of him as the Uthraki's short powerful legs drove them forward. This split into three and each of those whooshed out and into its target. Fur began to smoulder as flesh burned and the impacts drove the Uthraki back. Howling a little in pain they slapped at themselves, their charge spoiled and distracted enough by the pain for Blake to take a few quick strides with his longer legs and strike. The flesh of their leader's chest was remarkably tough and as his sword carved through it and discharged magic into the wound Blake felt a definite drag. This was no worse than cutting through studded leather though, and far easier than metal, as he opened the Uthraki across his front from collarbone to opposite hip.

Another Uthraki tried to take advantage of Blake being vulnerable in mid-swing and bounced up into the air to try to land on Blake and cling onto him with hands and feet and bite at the back of his neck. Though Blake had a chainmail hood the Uthraki's teeth were long enough they might slip between the links so it was lucky for Blake that Okku was there to protect him. With a snap Okku lunged and his huge teeth closed on one leg, stopping the Uthraki's forward motion before Okku began shaking and whirling him around by that leg. Before the Uthraki could begin to feel much pain from his leg, as the teeth worked into the flesh and the joints tried to bend in strange directions, Okku's jaws relaxed and his prey found himself flying out over the water.

There was a thud and a splash as the Uthraki struck a ruined building's wall and bounced off it into the lake. A brief moment later a suggestion of movement in the darkness and then a scream cut off by a faint crunch showed that the question of whether Uthraki could swim was not to be resolved that day. Blake hoped that would be enough of a meal for one of whatever those things in the lake were rather than it simply whetting its appetite and prompting it to go on the hunt. One of those could be a lot more trouble than the Uthraki and especially since the third of them had already been impaled through the chest on Gann's spear.

It had grabbed at the shaft and was still trying to snarl defiance and insults. Before Blake could decide if Gann needed help Neeshka was already moving. Her rapier flicked out and the incredibly sharp tip sliced across the Uthraki's throat and through veins and windpipe so the snarling dissolved in blood. Gann heaved his spear to one side now the Uthraki was no longer holding onto the shaft as tight or bracing itself against being moved and there was another splash as the Uthraki went off the edge of the walkway and its flesh slid off Gann's spear.

Casting a suspicious look into the darkness in case the bleeding corpse attracted something Blake then looked down at where his opponent still lay. Blood bubbled in the long wound where air was escaping from the lungs and stained the white fur red where it had not already been burnt black. That the blood was bubbling and still pulsing out of the cut showed the Uthraki was still breathing and its heart still beating so Blake decided to show mercy and swept his sword down as if he was sweeping a broom across his body. The tip of his sword was not as sharp as Neeshka's, but it was sharp enough to cut through the Uthraki's neck with little resistance and almost decapitate him.

The Uthraki howling and the splashes of them going into the lake had been a little noisier than Blake had hoped. He was concerned how long they could remain around the side of the building now relative silence had returned before the Guards became suspicious. Thankfully there did seem to be only one door so they were not going to have to spend time searching for which one Fentomy's key fitted. As Blake moved towards this, and reached into his pouch for the key, Okku decided to be tidy and reached one great paw out to the last Uthraki corpse to snag his claws into the blood soaked fur and casually flip it away with a splash.

"Door, there," Blake called, giving his sword a quick shake. "Inside before the guards realise it has gone quiet and how quickly those idiots died."

"Again you give orders," protested Gann mildly. "We are friends, not lackeys…"

Blake nodded to Gann and quickly inserted the key in the lock and turned it. The door smoothly opened but to his surprise behind it was a shadow portal rather than a corridor or ramp or flight of stairs. Blake gave the portal a suspicious look and muttered, "This was not what I was expecting."

"But what other choice do we have little-one?" Okku murmured back.

"True enough," replied Blake, stepping forward and confident the others would follow.

This confidence was not unjustified and they all found themselves together in a corridor whose stonework looked to be of high quality but which had an air of disrepair in the missing and cracked stones and the small rivulets of water running down the walls. Blake looked around as he wiped his sword and tried to try to get some idea of the age and provenance of where they had found themselves.

"Imaskari?" Blake asked.

"Looks like it to me," Neeshka replied. "Like the ruins under Okku's barrow."

"Myself," Gann interjected, tapping at the stonework with the butt of his spear, "I find it of more immediate interest that this behind us is a blank wall rather than my being concerned who built it, as fine as the work was I am sure."

"No portal," nodded Blake, "which was one risk of entering that way. I'd have preferred if, assuming Fentomy was telling the truth, that there be another path out as well as the one that would lead us to the Slumbering Coven."

"Come, come," Gann chided, "even if we found another path I know you and I both would wish to see the Slumbering Coven rather than use the alternative."

"And I'm not leaving you harbour-boy," added Neeshka, "so I'd have no need of another way out. As good as it is to have more than one escape route."

"If need be, little-one," Okku rumbled, "then though my claws are for killing and not digging we can see if these stones and earth can withstand the tireless assault of a god-of-bears who wishes to leave."

Blake nodded. "If this is the Skein then let us hope Tymorra smiles and it is not as twisted as a ball of wool can bec…"

"Sleep…. Sleeep… Sleeeeeep! Sleeeeeeeeep! No dreams, no nightmares! Aha ha ha ha!" an echoing voice interrupted him.

"What in the Hells?" Blake said mildly, looking about.

"It seems finding a path is not the only concern," commented Gann, "that sounded rather insane as well as like a Hag."

"The way… the voice carries…" said Blake, closing his eyes to try to listen harder.

"Sounded distant to me harbour-boy," Neeshka reassured him.

He opened his eyes to look at her and Neeshka smiled and ran a slender finger back along one backward swept pointed ear. Blake returned the smile. He trusted her judgement that the voice was distant and he trusted her sense of direction. The latter would be of more use had there been some stairs or a return portal to find their way back to but this did look like a large enough place that without her skills it would be easy to get lost in.

"Let us see where our feet take us," Blake nodded, starting away and keeping his shield on his arm, his helmet on his hand, and his sword in his hand.

Corridors led to bends led to short flights of stairs and the whole time there was the trickling of water. It was reassuring they would not die of thirst as magic and boiling could make almost any water drinkable but the effects of the noise did make Blake glad he had not drunk much in the last few hours. Beneath their feet the stones were damp and a little slippery and the air had a smell of decay and of the slimy weed growing along where the water flowed. The smell, if not the occasional corpse, was rather reassuring to Blake as it reminded him of home and the Mere and slow moving or stagnant waters. It also confirmed what his eyes seeing colours had suggested, that passing through a shadow-portal had taken them back out of the Shadow Plane to where things could grow or rot.

Passing around another corner Blake saw a short flight of stairs with a door at the bottom. Opening this door he was rather displeased to see a group of people standing there at the top of the matching stairs back up. That the Skein was inhabited was something else Fentomy had not mentioned and the way the Hagspawn in the centre was glowering and brandishing his club made these not look like people you wanted to meet unprepared. Fortunately the Uthraki had given them cause to prepare with spells and requests of the spirits and the echoing voice had given cause to remain prepared.

To one side of the Hagspawn was a Grey Dwarf with a club and shield and to the other side was a Drow with a Quarterstaff. The only Grey Dwarves Blake had met had been those that attacked West Harbour, or been trying to kill him on the orders of the Githyanki, and the Drow did have a certain reputation. More important though both were rather wild-eyed so even treating them even-handedly as Tyr would wish and judging them as individuals rather than as members of their races it seemed likely they would need to die.

Hanging back a little from that trio was a human that appeared to be unarmed and dressed in cloth rather than the hide armour of the others and a female Gnome that although wearing hide armour had her crossbow slung and her dagger sheathed. They were looking far more nervous and far less enthusiastic. Blake looked over them and judged distances and intents.

"Hmm, why am I reminded of Leldon's thugs?"

"Because you are _ever_ so clever," replied Neeshka, fluttering her eyelashes up at him in mock admiration.

"Would _those_ be the ones you _slaughtered_ without mercy?" Gann asked, knowing the answer but trying to speak with enough emphasis to be heard and understood and having the satisfaction of seeing the Gnome and human glance at each other.

"Aye," agreed Blake simply, failing to realise what Gann was attempting as him trying to speak loudly was quieter than Khelgar speaking normally when there was the chance of a fight. A moue of annoyance came to Gann's face as Blake did not elaborate and attempt to further intimidate their opponents.

"Look, here!" the Hagspawn said, like Leldon's thugs too self-confident or too stupid to back off. "We got some _new_ arrivals."

"Heh, looks like they got nice gear," added the Grey Dwarf, sounding covetous rather than concerned that 'nice gear' was often in the possession of those skilled enough to have earned it. "Let's get 'em!"

"Fool!" Okku growled, his rage intensifying so coloured lights sparkled off the damp stonework. "They also have the protection of a God-of-Bears."

"Hey!" said the human very nervously. "Why do we have to attack every one that blighted Mistress sends here?"

The Gnome very carefully kept her hands well away from her weapons. "Yeah, we don't have many left since the last time Gulk'aush came to feed. We should be welcoming newcomers, not murdering them!"

"That would be less bloody," Blake commented calmly, "for all of us but especially for you."

"If you block our path then you shall die," rumbled Okku, disdaining any subtlety in his threats.

"That bear seems really tough," the Gnome muttered to her friend. "I don't think we should get on his bad side."

"Then tell us..." Blake asked, seeing an opportunity, "who is this Gulk'aush?"

"Gulk'aush is the mad hag," replied the Gnome quickly, trying to curry favour as Okku continued to snarl and show teeth as long as her hand. "Once a member of the Slumbering Coven, but she was exiled here for some terrible crime…"

"Cowards!" the Hagspawn interrupted. "You are supposed to be fighting not answering their questions!"

"I refuse to gang up on any more poor, defenceless souls," said the Gnome, trying to sound as if this was a moral decision rather than realising this group were far from defenceless. Or admitting that five against four when one of the five was unarmed and one of the four was a bear-god was hardly 'ganging up'.

"I'm with you," the human agreed quickly. "Let's go back to the Sleeper."

The pair of them ran off, followed by curses from the Hagspawn. His ideas of their ancestry and what fate they would suffer were colourful to say the least.

"Doesn't matter," said the Drow confidently. "More loot for us. Let's do the deed."

"You're right," replied the Hagspawn, pleased at the reminder that he was going to get to hit something. "Attack!"

He began to charge and heard one of their weak foes mutter curses of fear but then the next thing he knew he was lying flat on his back, pain deep within his chest where the sonic energy of a _Cacophonic Burst_ had ruptured the delicate blood vessels around his lungs. He coughed and a froth of red coated his lips as he fought for breath and felt the pain there and around his heart that had been squeezed and stretched against its natural beat. He had just enough wit to realise those had been magic incantations not curses and that the foe must not be as weak as he had thought. Through his mother's blood he had inherited a resistance to magic so for that to be overcome meant not only the enemy had magic but that he had quite strong magic.

The power of the _Cacophonic Burst_ also splashed out to either side over the Hagspawn's allies but the Grey Dwarf showed he had all the toughness and determination of his surface cousins and barely paused in his charge as blood vessels and flesh ruptured across his side. Unfortunately for him that meant just that he got far enough down the stairs to be within Okku's reach that little bit sooner. A huge paw swung, a wooden shield and the arm beneath shredding as spirit-claws sliced easily though them, and the Dwarf was smashed back the way he'd come to almost land on the Hagspawn.

Meanwhile the Drow was levering himself back off one knee and onto his feet. The effect of the spell had staggered him more than it had the Grey Dwarf and he'd have fallen flat had he not quickly jabbed one end of his quarterstaff down and propped himself up. One side of his body was agony where this had caught him. It hurt to move and though pain was something he could, mostly, ignore he knew he could not move at full speed or with his full skill. That and seeing both his allies down and wounded and groaning as they bled made retreat seem a good idea.

As the Drow began to limp quickly back into the shadows an arrow streaked up and into his side, forcing him to lean on his quarterstaff again. Neeshka fitted another arrow to her shortbow's string and drew it back with one smooth pull. She was slender but, especially with a belt to help, she was strong and could use a bow of surprising power and draw it with impressive speed. Neeshka had noticed the narrowness of the stairs compared with the bulk of Okku and realised the bear-god and her harbour-boy with his tower shield would easily be able to block those. It would be all right for Gann as he'd be able to stab up from the side but her rapier didn't have that reach. So while their foes' attention was on Blake who was talking and on Okku who was snarling and lighting up the Skein Neeshka had used a small measure of her stealth to sidle back, sheath her rapier, and string her bow.

Her fingers relaxed and with a slight slap against the thin leather covering the chain sleeve on that forearm another arrow took a short flat path into the Drow. To Neeshka's annoyance he straightened a little as she released and this took him in the thigh rather than gut. The Drow wobbled on his feet and took one lurching stride using his quarterstaff as a crutch before Neeshka released her third arrow just as he turned and fell. This struck him in the upper chest but was a grazing blow with the arrow passing mostly through muscle before its head emerged out of the opposite pectoral. This was enough though for the Drow to fall and enough blood began coming from both wounds, around the shaft and around the head, to show Neeshka had hit a major blood vessel.

Okku bounded up the stairs and his great head dipped down to bite at the Hagspawn. A moment later and one shaking shrug of his huge neck sent a chunk of the Hagspawn's upper chest and neck flying away to spat against the wall. The Dwarf lurched up, shield arm hanging uselessly with the equally useless splinters of his shield dangling on its straps from it, and swung his club in a clumsy blow that managed to strike Okku in the side of the head. This was hard enough and well placed enough for Okku to actually feel it and be stunned for a split-second at least.

His path blocked by Okku's arse Gann shifted his grip on his spear, hefted it, and threw. The thickness of the shaft, the size of the spearhead, and the iron bands and ferrule on its butt made it rather heavy for throwing any great distance. At this range though that did not matter and even if the Dwarf had still had a shield for it to hit that would have dragged him off balance with the weight. As it was the spear dragged the Dwarf off balance as it sank into his chest. This did not last for long though as Okku recovered from his momentary daze and swept a paw across the Dwarf's face, fragments of shredded beard and shattered teeth getting between his claws, and the spear fell out as it caught against something as the Dwarf fell.

Okku moved slightly to check his kill and Blake trotted up the stairs to also check. The Drow was still slowly dying so Blake stabbed his sword down and through his heart to finish him. There was a crack as his blade cut through the breastbone and the arrow-shaft that was across the front of the Drow's chest. Pulling his sword back out and moving to one side Blake smiled as he saw Neeshka come up the stairs and disdain to recover the two other arrows. She was rather less frugal than he was, but even Blake drew the line at cutting arrows back out of corpses rather than just picking up ones that had missed. Neeshka smiled back and put on an air of ostentatiously ignoring the Drow corpse while she put her bow away.

Blake's smile broadened but then faded slightly as he glanced across to where Gann was recovering his spear. "Something is bothering you my friend."

"Aside from attempted murder and robbery you mean?" Gann replied with a half-smile.

"Aside from that, yes."

"I do not know if you have enough command of the language of Hags to realise," Gann sighed, "but 'Gulk'aush' is not a proper name... it is more a title."

"A title meaning what?"

"It depends on the context, but the closest to human speech is 'lawbreaker'... or 'lover.' Although in the world of hags the two meanings are very close. They do not value love as you and I might."

Blake nodded slowly. "Love and devouring your mate would seem to be awkward to resolve. Though there is other love than romantic or sexual."

"All of which kinds my mother's breed are strangers to," Gann said with contempt, before adding, "and I think all of which _you_ have felt or feel."

Blake half-bowed his head in thanks and then began walking again. The constant trickle of water and the presence of corpses continued to accompany their travels though as they entered a partially flooded section this became water tricking into water and some of the corpses were floating rather than sprawled on the floor. As Blake looked across one of these pools he wondered if these had been filled by the trickling or if there were holes leading out into the lake. He gave the water and a corpse a long look to see if he could see any fish or evidence that they had nibbled the corpse. This was probably irrelevant as even if there was a large enough hole it would be too dangerous to try to travel through the lake with those things that owned those tentacles, though thinking of those Blake realised something.

"Keep an eye on the pools and corpses. I was wondering if there were holes leading to the lake, and if one of these pools doesn't have any corpses that could mean it does have a hole and that hole is large enough for a tentacle to come in to feed."

"From this scene that appears not the case here," commented Gann, waving at the pool, "so I'd ask instead what that over there is."

There was a swirl of dust just visible in the distance and as it moved towards them Blake cursed a little. "Air Elemental. Can't drown you like a water elemental, but can take the breath from your lungs."

"Then once again little-one," Okku chuckled, "you are blessed that you are in the presence of a god-of-bears who does not breathe."

"Your aid, and especially your friendship, has been a blessing," Blake replied sincerely.

"Before we indulge in the group hug," Gann commented, "I'd remind you that thing is still approaching."

Blake nodded and muttered some words of incantation, the weave responded and a _Greater Missile Storm_ erupted from him. Patches of light pocked the Air Elemental as each magical missile struck and discharged its energy into it. The swirling faltered almost imperceptibly as the animating spirit binding the air tried to recover and then Okku seemed to disprove his earlier statement. Charging forward his muzzle snapped into the middle of the Elemental, his spirit teeth clashing together, and the Elemental vanishing so fast under this attack it looked as if Okku had simply inhaled it.

That he had not was shown by some strange glowing dust that was left on the floor rather than having had to be coughed up by Okku. Blake moved cautiously forward to join the victorious bear-god and crouched a little to examine this. There seemed some magic about the dust but he did not recognise it and nor had any elemental he had fought before left such a thing. Blake peered and frowned at it a little more before straightening with a clank and a shrug.

"I… have no idea what that dust is," Blake admitted, "and I don't care to touch it to find out."

"Probably wise," replied Gann, "you are afflicted enough with your curse without being poisoned as well."

"Be a little hard to wash it into the water…" Blake began before being interrupted again.

"When they _come_, kill each _one_. When they _die_, stack them _high_. When I'm _through_, eat them _too_," the voice echoed again before dissolving into laughter at its own rhyming and then broke into coughing as it seemed to have laughed too hard to breathe properly.

"That cackling is driving me mad," Gann commented, looking more affected than the poor poetry would account for.

"I want to tear out the throat that keeps uttering that noise!" growled Okku in agreement as he demonstrated his reputation for being quick to anger.

Blake listened as the coughing stopped in case the voice had something else to say, and when it didn't he finished his sentence. "Stone floor is damp so the dust seems to be sticking to it fairly well, just leave it I think."

"Doesn't look to be worth any coin," Neeshka nodded, showing her fine sense of priorities.

With a smile Blake nodded back and continued, careful to not step on the small pile of dust that was drifting in the slight breeze and clumping as it got wetter. These corridors seemed to look very similar to him but so far it had not been as twisted as he had feared it might be. A few more turnings and as they walked along the edge of a flooded section they had the amusement of several swirls of light resolving themselves into Telthor Rats, that then took one look at Okku, squeaked, and fled before he could even begin to roar. One of the Rats was so anxious that as its spirit paws scrabbled on the stone floor parts of its form began to lose solidity and it almost lost control and swirled back into intangibility.

There was a closed door so, after Neeshka checked it for traps, Blake triggered whatever magic made it slide back in sections into the walls. It was quite impressive as well as useful how that magic lingered in places but peering inside Blake's eyebrows rose as he saw something even more impressive. He wandered in and down the short flight of stairs as he craned his neck back and looked to the ceiling high above them and along the towering height of the Earth Elemental enclosed in rings of magical light that almost reached that ceiling. Blake had seen some large Earth Elementals when approaching Nolaloth's valley and the illusionary ones created by the Wrath of the Ashenwood had hardly been small but this one dwarfed those.

"That is the largest living chunk of rock I have ever seen," Gann commented, also peering up towards where the Elemental kept the cluster of rocks that seemed to serve it as a head. "I hope we do not intend to antagonise it."

"Would you rather antagonise a Dao," asked Blake, "by taking his key and then not doing what he asked?"

"A good point," Gann admitted, with a smile. "Can I have some time to think about it, and perhaps think about it outside… past that door that is far too small for this fine fellow."

"There is the saying about soldiers who are perhaps over-blessed by Torm with obedience," Blake chuckled, "whose reaction to the command to 'jump' is simply 'how high'." He looked again at the gigantic Earth Elemental with a dubious expression as he realised the largest one he'd ever seen before would barely reach this one's waist. "It seems the correct reaction to a Dao asking you to vanquish an Earth Elemental is also 'how high'."

"Just get on with it, little one," rumbled Okku, unimpressed by an Earth Elemental with forearms as large as the bear-god's body.

"This device seems simple enough," Blake said with understatement as he looked at the single prominent lever. "Despite its age it is functioning and keeping the elemental contained. When I pull this lever the elemental will be released, so I hope Okku is not the only one that is ready."

"Are you sure about this harbour-boy?" asked Neeshka, glancing at the vast bulk of what he was suggesting they fight.

"Not really," Blake admitted, rubbing at his beard in thought and glad he had an open face helm that allowed that. "Let's hope the Red Knight is blessing this plan and that Tymorra is smiling rather than Beshaba. Could you switch to your bow please, my love, and use your ring…"

A minute or so later Blake was standing with some cords tied end to end and in a loop around the lever. Glancing at Neeshka who gave him a reassuring smile that lifted his spirits as always he tugged the cord and the lever slid in its slot. The rings of light vanished and the huge Earth Elemental slumped slightly as its weight shifted to it keeping its own balance rather than it being held. Neeshka's arms and back flexed as she drew her shortbow and Blake wished he had time to admire the effects of that on her bosom but he was too busy trying to concentrate to cast some magic. An arrow streaked up at the Earth Elemental, Neeshka's skill letting it find one of the cracks between the rocks, a moment before the missiles of a _Greater Missile Storm_ arced out from Blake's hand to pelt the Elemental.

The arrow between its rocks and the second one Neeshka sent into it as it tried to react seemed to have little effect despite her having felt it was worth the coin to use some that were imbued with acid. Blake's _Greater Missile Storm_ also did little; a few pebbles broke away from the impacts but compared with the size of the Elemental any craters those left were very difficult to even see. The attacks did get the Elemental's attention though and it took a single half-step forward before bringing the ends of both arms together in front of its 'face' and then smashing them down together at its attackers.

Blake and Neeshka had to move fast, even a glancing blow from those rocky stumps would have turned them into pulp, but Blake allowed himself a smile as his boots thankfully gripped rather than slid like the fleeing spirit rat paws against the floor. As the room shook with the force of the impact and the Elemental slowly realised it had missed and began to straighten from its crouch it suddenly found itself with a god-of-bears on its back. Even Okku could not leap high enough to emulate on the Elemental what the Uthraki had wanted to do to Blake but if the Elemental was distracted and bending over in the sort of blow Blake had hoped to provoke then that became far more possible. It became even more so as the Ring of Invisibility that had helped Neeshka to remain unseen while following the kidnapped Blake through the portal could also be used on others.

Okku's claws dug in as they found or, with their spirit-sharpness, made paw holds for him as he clung on and the Elemental moved. It was more like trying to keep his feet in a earthquake than being on prey but Okku's growl of challenge echoed his determination. To one side and below of the bear-god Gann also became visible as his spear stabbed at a knee joint. His spearhead sank into it with a quick precise motion before withdrawing again to avoid being trapped. As skilled as that blow was and as stubborn as Okku was these were not doing as much harm as Blake had hoped.

The Elemental straightened with Okku still hanging on his back like a kitten on a trouser leg, but a kitten that was deliberately trying to shred the trousers rather than just climb them. His rear paws scrabbled as Okku gripped with his front paws and small fragments of stone tumbled down the Elemental's back like dandruff. It seemed to notice this attack and the weight of the bear-god as little as it was noticing the arrows Neeshka was loosing into it. Blake aimed carefully to avoid hitting Okku and muttered the incantation for a _Disintegrate_. He did prefer spells, as he'd said in the burning grove, that affected more than one target but there were times you wanted concentrated power. Against this Earth Elemental though it was rather underwhelming as the huge thing moved and rather than strike the knee it instead ate a large chunk of rock away from the thigh.

For a moment Blake hoped. That would have been a crippling wound, or perhaps a fatal one with how heavily it would be bleeding, against a creature of flesh and even with the Elemental he wondered if there was enough thickness of leg to support its movements. It continued to move though without its leg giving way or any more stone cracking apart or coming loose. Blake cursed a little. "I don't think I can reach its knee," he said, before clarifying. "With my sword. With any force."

"I have the same minor problem," Gann commented, "so with such a 'diminutive' opponent I have to be content with the idea of valiantly assaulting its ankle."

Blake almost smiled and then he glanced at where another arrow from Neeshka hit their towering opponent. With the way it was moving as it tried to follow them not even Neeshka could always find a crack between the rocks. This was one of those that hit stone and there was a slight spark as the arrowhead glanced off and then a small patch of clean rock appeared as the acid it released ate at the weathered outer layer and trickled down a short way from the impact. _'A few… hundred… more hits like that,'_ Blake thought, _'and we'll be getting somewhere.'_

"Perhaps you should have been using your bow," Blake said to Gann, brandishing his sword to glint some light at the Elemental and turn its attention back away from Neeshka. Blake was glad Neeshka would realise this was to keep the Elemental's limited mind swaying between enemies uselessly as if she thought it was more over-protectiveness he'd get the side of her tongue that was less pleasant than the other things she could do with it. "Perhaps I should have switched to bow myself. Had not wanted to strap my shield to my back, but a shield would not do any good here…"

"Less talking little-one," Okku growled from where he had got his claws into what the Elemental used for shoulders. "More fighting!"

As Okku continued to work away pebbles were falling down the Elemental's back and clicking on the floor like those that could precede a landslide. However despite the bear-god's efforts Blake did not think this creature was going to collapse like the mountainside it resembled. Looking where Okku was Blake sent a _Scintillating Sphere_ into the Earth Elemental's crotch. More stone clattered down as the electricity split the rock and dried a relatively tiny amount of the damp soil lubricating the joint. The tails and rears of Neeshka's arrows were also falling to the floor. If they had wished they would be able to see how many 'missed' and bounced off fairly intact and how many she had put into a seam between the rocks to release their acid and then be half-pulped as those stones ground against each other and them.

Gann darted forward, his spear stabbing out in front of him as he did what he said he'd have to and valiantly assaulted an ankle. He had to quickly draw his spear back as it would be as easily pulped with the Elemental's movements as the arrows had been. As expected the attack did not do more than, again, switch the Elemental's attention and it clumsily turned. As large as the room was it was a little too small for the Elemental to move freely. Fortunately its mind was also a little too small and it did not seem capable of thinking to use the restricted quarters to let it squash Okku against a wall.

It swung one arm in a horizontal arc across the floor like the tail of one of the great beasts of Chult and Gann hand to jump back. The Elemental did have to crouch slightly to reach that low and Blake saw his chance and swung at the knee that had come within reach. It was a good strike with his blade cutting deep into the soil of the joint and the magic along a foot or more of blade discharging as the wound reached that depth. Despite that all it achieved was that the Elemental had a bit of a limp as it straightened to attack Blake and when, a few seconds later, it turned to attack Neeshka after another arrow or two drew its attention that way again.

As Okku continued to hold on with his forepaws and scrabble with his rear Blake could feel his curse beginning to sing siren songs to him. Tendrils of hunger ached to taste the spirit it could sense within the huge Earth Elemental. Why waste time attacking the crude, if impressive, physical form when a small relaxation, a small indulgence, could bypass that and drink in its animating power directly. Without that within it this would be nothing more than a pile of soil and boulders. Blake crushed down the temptation and the hunger. He disliked using the curse on principle and, on a more practical note, he did wonder what would be left to return to the Elemental Plane of Earth for Fentomy to bind if he devoured the animating spirit?

There was beginning to seem little other option though. With how little harm they were doing to it this fight could take a very long time and eventually its luck would be better than theirs and it would manage to hit one of them to smear them across the floor. Okku was the only one who seemed to be making an impact and this was very gradual. Although he was wearing away the stone of the Elemental's back this was like a river carving a valley; the bear-god was just as tireless as the running water but seemed to be working just as slowly. Wait. Running water. Blake looked at the Earth Elemental's joints where every time it moved it more water came squishing out of the very damp soil between the rocks.

"How far vertically would a _Burst of Glacial Wrath_ reach?" Blake asked, thanking the _Lady of Strategy _and _Lady Luck_ as a suggestion of an idea came to him.

"I…I am not sure," admitted Gann, "as we agreed…using the power of the Spirits to attack is something I do not favour, so I have rarely used it…"

"If you are concerned about me," Okku grumbled from above them, "then don't be. I can endure anything the Hagspawn can do."

Gann glanced up at Okku, not sure if that insulted him or whether he agreed his skills were unequal to truly hurting the god-of-bears.

Neeshka tensed and released another arrow and then gave Blake a grin as this struck the Elemental in the shoulder-joint and the Elemental's motions ground the arrow to pulp. "Come on harbour-boy, if you have an idea then share it, getting expensive with arrows here."

"Gann," Blake said, nodding to Neeshka and pointing with his sword for Gann, "that leg, please."

Concentrating a moment Gann beseeched the Spirits for their aid and power. They responded and the intense cold of the _Burst of Glacial Wrath_ swirled around the Earth Elemental's leg, frosting it with ice up to just above its knee. Even as this ice formed though it was falling away as the rock beneath it broke apart. Over the long years the Elemental had been standing there water had seeped deep into cracks in its rocks and now under Gann's magic this froze and expanded into ice that widened and lengthened these cracks. The Earth Elemental staggered as fragments of stone fell away from it, the damp lubricating mud in its ankle joint set solid, and ice formed within the mud lubricating its knee. Dust of ice and frozen mud ground out from its joints and drifted to the floor as it continued trying to move.

Blake muttered an incantation and channelled the power of the Weave into a _Delayed Action Fireball_. With the extra power required to cast this in armour and the usefulness of alternate spells at that level it was rare that he prepared more than one and often when he rested he'd not cast it as he'd been reserving it just in case he needed its specific talent. Being aimed directly at the Elemental's leg the fireball detonated at once and water and ice flashed into steam that exploded outwards taking more chunks of rock with it. The size of these chunks was impressive as the ice forming had already pushed apart and weakened the stone. Blake hesitated and then chanted and cast a _Firebrand_ even though there only being one target meant only one ball would form rather than several.

This single ball of flame arced out from Blake and compounded the damage. As the weight of the Elemental came more onto that leg it splintered apart like the stones of an undermined castle tower and the Elemental began to fall. Blake and the other mortals dashed back out of the way and this heaving was finally enough to make Okku lose his grip. The bear-god did not seem hurt though as he bounced and rolled and came to a stop. For a moment as the Elemental shook the room with the impact Blake hoped the pile of rocks and soil was just and only that, but then the rocks stirred as the Elemental began to try to rise.

It got itself back up onto its knee and the stump of its other leg. A few fragments of stone, barely the size of boulders, still clung to the mud at the end of that thigh but aside from those its lower leg was gone. Shifting position as best it could the Earth Elemental swung its arms at the tiny foes that had managed to wound it so severely. Blake had remembered Neeshka's oft-repeated advice though and was not in front of the Elemental where it could reach. Instead he was indulging in some back stabbing, or rather in some back-side and back-of-knee stabbing.

With the elemental kneeling he could reach, if only just, to stab at its hip joints. Seeing this Gann moved around and in to take over that task with the longer reach of his spear and allowed Blake to concentrate on stabbing and slicing at the Elemental's remaining knee. It tried to shift position to attack them behind it but this placed more stress on the increasingly wounded joints and with a sucking squelch like losing a boot in swamp mud its knee joint began to part. There was a roar as Okku charged and sprang at the again at Elemental's back. The bear-god's claws dug into the edges of the groove he had worn as his weight and momentum bore the Elemental down as it failed to balance on the two thigh length stumps its legs had become.

The room shook again, the puddles that had barely reformed leaping into the air again as the shockwave passed them and as the shock bounced back off the floor and through the Elemental's body there was a sharp _crack_. Stone was very good when being squashed but far weaker when being stretched, as it was when the shock-wave passed out of it into the air above. All along where Okku had weakened the rock with his clawing a deep fissure appeared and with a growl of satisfaction the god-of-bears dug his claws into either side and flexed his great shoulders in an attempt to widen this.

Blake had slightly staggered from the floor heaving beneath his boots but he came back in and set to work on the fallen Elemental as well. It writhed under Okku's attempts to divide it but with Gann continuing to weaken its hips and Blake chopping away at its shoulders it soon lost use of its arms and what was left of its legs. Neeshka had put her bow away but was standing back a little with an unsure expression on her face; the males seemed to have this under control and she neither wanted to get in close enough to use her bracer blade nor thought her rapier would do much good. Then suddenly the Skein began to shake and a few small rocks to fall from walls and ceiling of the room.

As his curse snarled that there was no longer prey within its reach and another chance to feed had been lost Blake decided that would have been one way to tell the Earth Elemental had 'died' and its spirit returned to the Elemental Plane. That the room seemed to be collapsing was an even more obvious hint though. "Hmm," he mused, "it would seem I was right in fearing the Elemental _did_ still serve a purpose here."

"This does appear more extreme," replied Gann, "than the two great-thuds, as impressive as they were, would explain."

"Elemental is defeated," Blake complained, leading the way towards the doorway, "the place starts to collapse. A disturbingly familiar result."

"But this time I am staying by your side in the collapsing fortress," smiled Neeshka, lifting Blake's spirits, "not letting you get kidnapped again harbour-boy."

"For my part I will hope this does not become as familiar to me as it has become to you," Gann commented, "once is more than enough."

"Of that we can agree my friend," replied Blake, glancing back and forth and deciding to head back the way they had come, "though I think we can also agree that the Red Knight blessed, somewhat, our tactics in the fight but not my sense of strategy. Might have shown more foresight to find the route out and then come back."

"If you wish to attribute your skills and decisions to one of your supposed gods then I shall not argue."

"And if you wish to deny their existence," Blake said in return to Gann, jogging along, "then I shall agree to disagree on the matter."

Gann nodded to Blake as they continued. As they travelled the water filling the lower sections sloshed back and forth as the Skein shook, sometimes cresting high enough to send water across the path, and the corpses bobbed on the waves the shaking created. Blake was tempted to hold his shield above his head to shelter it but knew it was more important to not block his view of larger rocks than it was to block the path of the smaller.

"Careful harbour-boy," chided Neeshka, as she easily sidestepped one rock and Blake dodged another that shattered on the floor. "I don't want to have to pull you out of the way like last time."

"Out of the way of the King of Shadows," Blake commented, "was Khelgar that pulled me out of the way of rocks…"

"I grow ever more surprised at your survival," chuckled Gann, "the more I hear of how friends needed to aid you at every turn."

"But, aye," Blake continued, glancing through a doorway and then continuing on, "this cloak is not as nice as the one I got in my Knighting ceremony but I still don't want you grabbing and tearing it off, my love."

"Only tore that one partly off," Neeshka pointed out, "you lost it when being carried by the Gargoyle, remember?"

"Wait," frowned Gann, his stride not faltering, "wait… 'Knighting ceremony'?"

Blake glanced over his shoulder at his friend as Neeshka grinned. "Gannayev, Gann-of-Dreams," she said proudly, "may I introduce you to _Sir_ Blake Marsh, Knight of Neverwinter and, unless they replaced him already, Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep."

"Why is this a surprise?" Blake asked, distracted by grumbling at Beshaba for the bad luck and at Shaundakul for not blessing their exploration when he found a collapsed dead end. "I mentioned Crossroad Keep and the battle there in my tale-telling."

"Mentioned, aye," admitted Gann, "and come to think of it you did defend yourself that, rather than the personal feelings your lady claimed, one women's devotion was due to her being a good Seneschal …"

"Kana," Blake commented, leading the way back down.

"But you did not mention that you were Lord at that Keep."

"Or that he is one of the Neverwinter Nine," Neeshka added, "one of the personal agents of Lord Nasher, the ruler of Neverwinter."

"Most of my life I have been a harbour-boy, as Neeshka puts it," Blake said, nodding as Neeshka pointed down a turning since he trusted her instincts, "and would the titles I recently earned make any difference in this land?"

"They did not to me little-one," rumbled Okku, "my wrath was not altered by how you had introduced yourself to Nakata before the hunger devoured her. Who you _claimed_ to be did not affect my oath or my determination."

For a moment Blake frowned until he remembered there had been that second spirit-wolf that had run when the curse struck at Nakata and had witnessed this and the exchange of words before. "I just hope this collapse is not too complete," he said, trying to change the subject and glancing back towards the ceiling fall, "we can't check as passages are blocked but there were other people down here."

"It seems that though they fled," replied Gann, accurately if undiplomatically, "we might have ended up killing that human and that Gnome after all."

Blake nodded as he jogged over to peer through an open door that was in the direction Neeshka had pointed. The doorway led into a room and peering across Blake saw there was another door on the opposite side. There also seemed to be something stirring in the shadow and Blake cursed as it came into the dim light and he saw a tall, twisted, and grotesquely female form. Perhaps he should try to look on the bright side and regard this as more practice for meeting the Slumbering Coven.

"Gah!" Blake exclaimed, failing to look on the bright side. "Beshaba's Blessings. Unless there are two down here this Hag must be Gulk'aush."

"No sleep, sleeping," cackled the hag, confirming her identity, "dream, dreaming! Ah ha ha ha ha ha!"

"Yes, this _is_ the source of that wretched squawking!" Okku growled, far more grateful than Blake for this meeting. "I'll tear out that throat, as I said, and silence her for good…" He paused, and remembering the little-one's tendency to try to use words added, "just ask."

"There is something about her," mused Gann, almost to himself, "beneath the mask of insanity she is wearing is a face I feel I have seen many times in dreams, but…"

"Ah, another lucky one, lucky to know sleep, to know dreams," Gulk'aush babbled, her shoulders rolling as she tensed to spring, a faint suggestion of drool appearing as her expression became even more insane. "My gift to you, eternal slumber… yes, and you might dream too, you might!"

"Very well then," said Blake, seeing this and bringing his sword to a guard position, "we fight and Okku gets his chance at your throat _mad hag_."

Gulk'aush sprang and Blake's sword blurred out to meet her but even with the persistent spell of _Haste_ speeding his motions, of Cat's Grace making him more dextrous, and his Mithril armour not restricting him as much as Iron would he was still too slow. The tip and edge of his sword cut nothing but air and he barely managed to get his shield in line to deflect the hag's leap. As he did Blake felt a scraping across the armour over his gut and realised, with some disgust, that was her trying to disembowel him with her long twisted toenails.

Blake staggered back a little from the impact but Gulk'aush almost seemed to bounce off the floor into attacking Okku as he lunged forward to bite at her. She raked her fingernails along one flank of the bear-god and she seemed foul enough in her nature and her filthy state that these wounds acted as if they were poisoned. The shimmering as they closed was fainter as if Okku's healing had to overcome much more than simple grooves in his spirit flesh. Glancing back Blake saw the door had closed behind them so there would be no retreat even if Okku or himself were willing to leave this noisy hag unsilenced.

A flurry of stabs from Gann's spear drove Gulk'aush back. She cackled at him as she dodged but if it did not wound her it did at least stop her follow-up attack on Okku and distract her from Neeshka. Although she was a lot smaller than the hag Neeshka was just as fast and as she was not insane she was better able to use that speed and her rapier to good effect. The contrast between the clumsy semi-berserk hag and the gracefully precise Tiefling was great but neither was able to land a blow on the other. Their methods were different but their speed was well matched and Gulk'aush had almost as much reach with her longer arms and fingernails as Neeshka had with her rapier.

Okku swung again, missed, and then roared with frustration at not having felt Hag-flesh under his claws. The room almost seemed to shake with that as well as the rumblings of the collapsing Skein. As Gulk'aush cackled mockingly at Okku and swept her fingernails back across at Neeshka the hag's eyes suddenly went wide as a stray word caught a fragment of her shattered attention. It had been hard to hear anything over the sound of the roar and what was happening outside this room but Gulk'aush glanced at the man whose innards she'd not managed to squish between her toes. For a moment her cackling stuttered in surprise as she saw magic erupt from his gauntlet clad hands.

She had seemed too fast to easily strike with his sword so Blake had wondered if Gulk'aush was also faster than the missiles of a _Greater Missile Storm_. To his pleasure he found that she was not as the missiles curved away from him and in at the Hag from different angles to burn into her tough flesh. This did not stagger or slow Gulk'aush much but it was enough for Neeshka and her rapier stabbed out and across the Hag's thigh. Her ears were more attuned to her harbour-boy's voice so she'd realised a moment sooner what Blake was doing and been ready for the chance.

This was not a deep cut and although Gulk'aush was suddenly limping and slowed Neeshka's full lips thinned in irritation as she saw she'd not struck anything vital and the wound was not bleeding heavily enough for the hag to be quickly weakened by blood loss. Blake swept his sword forward for another stabbing slice to draw the point and side of the tip across her guts, as she had tried to do with her toenails to him, and though he missed it was close. Before Gulk'aush could cackle about still being fast enough to dodge she found that in moving away from Blake's sword she had moved into Okku's claws. A huge paw slammed into her side, claws tearing at the flesh over and between her ribs and at the softer flesh of her waist.

Bowled off her feet Gulk'aush tumbled and slid across the stone floor, leaving a little slimy trail of hag blood as she slid, even though she seemed to have rolled with the blow a little and to have used it to gain some extra distance. The Hag twisted and brought herself up on one knee and stared defiantly at them, her eyes almost glowing with her madness and the pain they had managed to inflict on her. Okku's rumbling of satisfaction drowned out a sudden gasp from Gann as the hag's eyes moved past the advancing Blake and onto him.

"They took it all away," Gulk'aush chanted, her eyes fixed and staring, "my dreams, my love, my son! Ah, my love sleeps somewhere without me!"

"Hold still and I'll send you to join him," replied Blake, impatient with the delay as more sounds of collapsing masonry came to his ears. Then Blake faltered as the Hag shimmered and vanished. "What… where did she go? Not invisible and…"

"Sleep," Gann suddenly cackled from behind him, "dream, dream, sleep!"

"Hells!" cursed Neeshka. "I might have suggested we could stab Gann, but I didn't mean like this."

"Try not to cut off anything Gann will miss too much," Blake said, with a slight smile, "clerics can heal much as long as things are still attached."

"No promises, little one," rumbled Okku, "and the Hagspawn would want us to deal with him as swiftly as we can."

Gann's spear darted out in a remarkably clumsy blow towards Neeshka. She easily dodged that and glanced at Blake in puzzlement. Blake nodded back as the possessed body of Gann continued to move and confirmed a hope. There was a saying about being so drunk it felt like your feet didn't belong to you. In this case though the feet and the rest of the body literally didn't belong to the possessing spirit. Moment by moment however Gulk'aush seemed to be becoming accustomed to being shorter and male and prettier and 'Gann' was moving in a less apparently intoxicated manner.

As irritating as the Hagspawn was at times it was still difficult, even knowing delay was to the hag's advantage, to hit a friend. Suddenly 'Gann' swept his spear like a long club at Neeshka and she had to block it with her small shield. It was only a slight noise she made, an 'oop' rather than an 'ow!', but it was enough to break Blake's hesitation and send him charging forward with a roar almost worthy of Okku. Even Blake was not sure whether this rage was at 'Gann' for landing a blow on Neeshka or at himself for dithering rather than already having broken an arm or a leg while the possessed Hagspawn was still too clumsy to prevent it.

Neeshka's eyes widened as she stepped back a little and 'Gann' turned to meet Blake. It looked like her harbour-boy was not following his own advice and they'd need a cleric for resurrection rather than simple healing. Blake's sword swept in and the possessed Gann brought the spear around to meet it in a clumsy parry that would at best deflect the blow into a crippling one rather than an almost immediately fatal one. 'Gann' jerked back though, the spear going to one side, and the tip of Blake's sword just grazing a groove into the leather over Gann's chest, as Okku took advantage of the distraction.

Great teeth met through Gann's cloak as Okku seized this in his mouth and began to shake his head about like a terrier with a rat. He was not being gentle or subtle but as he bounced 'Gann' off the floor, and sometimes the ceiling, with each shake he was being gentler than Blake's eviscerating blow would have been. Gann's spear clattered away as he or the spirit of Gulk'aush became dazed and lost their grip and then with one last shake the clasps on Gann's cloak finally gave way. As the Hagspawn tumbled across the floor Okku spat out the cloak, showing it had fresh holes but that a god of bears did not drool over things he held in his mouth.

Blake slid his sword back into its scabbard as he stepped across to where 'Gann' was dazedly rising to his feet. Then he punched Gann in the face, hard, and felt a little guilty how much he enjoyed doing this. It seemed some part of him felt Gann had still been owed this from how much Blake had wanted to do it during their first meeting at the prison. Gann's Hagspawn heritage meant his skin was tougher than it looked but it was nowhere near as tough as the knuckle studs of a Mithril gauntlet. Blake's left arm twitched as experience gained in harvest brawls tried to bring that in for a follow up punch to the gut before he suppressed that instinct since in harvest brawls he'd not had a shield on his arm.

Instead he brought his right arm back again and drove that into Gann's gut instead, angling the blow slightly up and under the ribcage. 'Gann' crumpled around this blow a little and as he bent forward this was when Blake used his shield. He twisted his body to draw his right arm back and sweep the shield on his left arm across in front of him so the edge of it caught Gann in the side of the head with a thump. 'Gann' staggered to his left with the direction of the blow and then, as he tried to straighten and turn, Blake decided on something that was almost regarded as cheating at a harvest brawl.

He'd more often suffered this blow, especially from female participants, than given it and the experiences had been memorable enough that Blake had ensured that whatever armour he wore did protect that area. Gann's lighter armour though seemed to not have the same degree of protection as Blake's right boot swung forward and into Gann's crotch. The good tingle of a solid blow went up Blake's leg as the far less good and far less tingly sensation of receiving it went through Gann.

A Monk would have regarded the kick as laughably unskilled but the impact of a Mithril toecap there was enough to cause 'Gann' to gag and fight for breath and almost seem to vomit up the hag. Freed from her possession, or perhaps just reacting to the blows, Gann slumped down onto one knee while Gulk'aush reappeared and seemed almost as dazed. How much of the pain had bled through to her Blake did not know but whether it was this or that Gann might have forced her out rather than her relinquishing control the effect was the same. For now she was slow and was vulnerable.

"There she is again!" Blake pointed out, unnecessarily, drawing his sword as he spoke. "Keep her away from Gann while he gathers his wits and summons some healing magic for himself."

Gann coughed a little and looked at the blood on his fingers before gingerly dabbing at his nose and mouth. He did not remember much but he thought the pain in his arms and legs that might soon turn purple with bruises rather than his normal grey was the bear-god's work. The pain in his gut and lower down, the pain in his face and the side of his head, and this blood on his fingers he was confident had a human feel to it. Ladies had struck him and they tended more towards a blow against the cheek or, if too far provoked, to be more precise in crushing genitals with a knee so he doubted it was their lady Tiefling that had inflicted it.

"You seem to have a vicious streak, one I have not seen with your trained efficient swordplay," Gann complained as his eyes went in and out of focus and he looked again at his fingertips that suddenly seemed utterly fascinating. "I shall definitely avoid angering you in future."

Blake frowned a little as Neeshka reached the dazed staggering hag. If he were being vicious then he'd have used the flat of his sword, broken bones with the impact of the metal and let the discharging magic burn and stun Gann. Instead he'd treated it like a harvest brawl, and that was just good clean fun that had let Brother Merring feel useful by healing people afterwards. Ahead of Blake there was a flash of reflected light as Neeshka's rapier darted out and cuts across Gulk'aush's gut. It seemed a shallow wound but enough to make to make her begin to retreat. Okku grumbled and moved to place himself between Hag and Hagspawn as the former moved and the latter remained on his knee and made no attempt to summon some healing.

Neeshka's shorter but far shapelier legs managed to keep up with the hag's longer stride and her rapier dabbed out again and stung Gulk'aush towards rushing on with less caution where her feet were taking her. As his sweetheart began to lose ground Blake unleashed an almost effortless twitch of arcane power and a _Melf's Acid Arrow_ issued from his hands and across into the hag. She howled as the acid burst over her and added more pain to that she had suffered in her own body and in the Hagspawn's. This seemed as much of a diversion as Blake had hoped as Gulk'aush staggered and grabbed where it had struck and as he tried to move to where the shape of the room and the Neeshka's pursuit would drive her.

Gulk'aush's stride being broken slightly by the stagger had let Neeshka catch up again and the hag had to half turn to defend herself against another blow. Seeing this Neeshka shifted her strike so rather than her sword continuing on its previous path she instead aimed for the arm that was fending her off. Tough Hag flesh parted as she drew the tip of her rapier along that forearm to try to cripple it and open the way for another more fatal attack. Turning away again and back into what was becoming an attempt to flee, rather than just to gain a pause to regain some wits, Gulk'aush's eyes widened as she saw Blake was ahead of her.

There was no retreat. If she tried to get past one of this pair then before she could the other would also be on her, there was a wall another way, and they'd catch her if she tried to run the other. She'd managed to avoid that human's blows before but she knew she was not fast enough to avoid them now. There perhaps was one chance though if these people were as soft-hearted as them not slaying their friend suggested. If they would accept her surrender then that at worst would allow her to live those moments longer and at best allow her to regain some of her speed to escape or defeat them…

"Enough!" cried Gulk'aush, flattening herself against the wall as she threw up her arms and attempted to cower. "This blood of mine you've spilt has loosened insanity's grip on me for now. I do not wish to die, though it would bring an end to the punishment I've endured for my crimes, my crimes…"

Blake was tempted to continue his attack as the hag's words dissolved again into cackles, and especially as hags could be so deceitful, but he held back. "No more laughing, please," he requested, before curiosity drove him to ask. "What were these crimes you committed?"

"I violated the sisterhood, broke the sacred laws of Kurg'annis. I took a man as my lover and I loved him. Oh, how I loved him."

An expression of slight nausea came to Blake's face as he saw the twisted limbs, the hooked nose, the long dirty finger and toenails, the sagging deflated breasts, the matted greasy hair… "Please, continue," he managed to say.

"I kept this love hidden, told my sisters I was just toying with him… just toying a little longer," Gulk'aush reminisced. "But I let him escape and fooled my sisters with the desiccated corpse of some other man. They remained ignorant of my terrible crime until I birthed the product of our love."

"Impressive," whispered Neeshka in Blake's ear, "he actually managed to… you know… with her?"

"Shush," Blake whispered back. "This curse makes me ill enough inside without that image as well."

"Then they found my beloved and made me devour him alive in front of his son," added Gulk'aush sorrowfully. "Even as they forced chunks of his flesh down my throat he smiled at me, at our son, so beautiful like his father was my son Gannayev."

"You!" Gann protested, staggering to his feet as the mention of his name broke his daze and made him realise what he was hearing. "You are my mother?"

"So…" breathed Gulk'aush, looking at Gann properly for the first time, with eyes not clouded by hunger or madness, "my son has returned and he has brought violence against me." She frowned reproachfully. "Will you murder your mother? Is this the homecoming you have sought for so long?"

Gann gathered a little of the power of the spirits and asked them to bless him with some healing, his posture straightening as they did and some of the pain left him. "You attacked us, you possessed me and forced my friends to drive you from me…" he replied. Gann paused and glanced at Blake. "Which they did rather painfully I must say." Putting that aside Gann continued. "I think _you_ have brought violence against _us_…" He paused again and glared at the hag. "And you abandoned me, cast me to the wilds of Rashemen!"

"_Abandoned_ implies I had a choice in the matter, my child," Gulk'aush said, trying to look honest. "I had but one choice in this, and that was to love your father."

"What does a hag such as _you_ know of love?" sneered Gann, far from convinced.

"More than you, I think, _child_," Gulk'aush sneered back, the similarity showing Gann had inherited more than the obvious physical traits from her. "Have you not drifted from creature to creature, spirit to spirit, finding no dream that has touched you? You know what I speak of is true, Gannayev, Gann-of-Dreams, spirit of Rashemen. Do not waste what short time we have together with protests and accusations."

"You…speak… as if your words are _truth_," rallied Gann, "but you know _nothing_… of me, of my life…"

"I know you have dreamed of this city beneath the waves," Gulk'aush interrupted, "and your travels have circled it all your life until now, until the time has come to destroy it. It was ordained we speak this one last time, my dear Gann. It is the one hope that has cradled me in this prison."

"You… you are a creature of lies spawned from lies!" Gann accused her, reluctant to admit she had any insight into him.

"And you, my beautiful child, are far more terrible," said Gulk'aush calmly, not denying the accusation. "To be spawned from the love of a hag; by such things are cities and nations laid to ruin. Do you wish to see the _proof_ of my claims?"

Gann was beginning to look almost as stunned as he had in the moments after being kicked in the crotch. Blake had some sympathy for this as it had been a real shock when he'd found out how his mother had died and how much his foster-father Daeghun had been keeping from him. 'Uncle' Duncan casually mentioning things that he assumed Daeghun would already have shared had been an abrupt way to learn them.

"This is your choice Gann, but, even if this Skein was not collapsing, you might not have another opportunity to speak with her."

"All right," replied Gann, glancing again at Blake. "I admit I have my doubts, but if you think it is worth listening then I will trust _you_ enough to listen some more."

"_My_ words you should hear," Gulk'aush protested. "There are others that deserve your hatred far more than I. The Coven that Slumbers, they must be awakened and with violence. Send them to join your father who drifts in the rivers of the dead."

"Mad Hag, we are here to question them," rumbled Okku, "to learn so the oath of a god-of-bears can be fulfilled. Their deaths, and yours, would be a fine thing but not if it lets the curse survive."

"Show them at last the horror that the love of a mother and her son can bring to their dreams," Gulk'aush continued, Okku's words drowned by her visions of long overdue revenge. "The voices echo through my mind and insanity will soon reclaim me. Take from me my eye so your friend can also enter their dreams, I will need it no longer."

With that Gulk'aush plunged her fingers into her own eye-socket, squeezing the eyeball and working her fingers around behind it to pull it out. As it came free and her long fingers closed around it the talons of her fingernails met and overlapped to slice through the optic nerve. One end dangled like a worm feeding on her face and a far smaller piece protruded from the eyeball like a stalk from an apple. Blake looked very dubious as Gulk'aush offered the gruesome present but as he had not managed to strike home with sword rather than spell his sword was still clean and could be returned to its scabbard to free his hand.

"Use it in your travels, use it against the Coven," Gulk'aush said, as Blake held out his hand and she gently placed her eye in it. "Now leave me, the escape you seek is ahead. I do not know how much longer I can remain sane… the voices in my head are a cacophony."

"Then hear my voice this last time mother," replied Gann, "where I walk, you shall be with me until the end days. We shall be together again."

Blake continued to look at what was in his hand as Gulk'aush turned and staggering slightly ran off. Seeing her harbour-boy was staring rather Neeshka gave him first a smile that took his mind off of what he was holding and then a small waterproof leather bag to put it in. Once the grotesque gift was inside that and Blake had scrubbed at the gauntlet leather over his palm a little he felt a lot better. Gann gave him a sardonic smile as they looked at each other again.

"Normally they might say that a child has his mother's eyes," Gann commented, "or in my case that I have caught a lady's eye…"

"Does this gift have any power?" asked Blake, his mind turning to practical matters as they began moving ahead again. "At the Mosstone we both entered that dreamscape without needing such."

"That was at the Mosstone where the currents of dream run strong, however little those Othlor could sense it," Gann said, "here we may need whatever magic might linger in that eye."

Blake nodded and decided that while it was in the bag and had not begun to noticeably rot it was worth carrying this eye. Or at least that it would be undiplomatic to dispose of it while Gann was watching. Together they continued on and managing to avoid the falling rocks, or in Okku's case to simply ignore them, they fairly soon reached a flight of stairs leading up. The door and the stairs were quite a squeeze for the god-of-bears but he managed and they emerged into a small room. There was only a faint tremor beneath their boots and paws so it seemed the collapse of the Skein was not yet greatly affecting the city above.

"You smell that?" Okku rumbled quietly, taking another sniff.

"Smell what?" asked Blake.

"I forget at times little one how limited your noses are," Okku chuckled, "past that door, _another_ narrow door, there is the smell of fear and death and of Hags and Hagspawn."

"A single door," commented Blake, "no way for Neeshka to use her stealth and for me to use my magic I need to be able to see them…"

"Hrm, you are wasting time, little-one," Okku growled, "our course is clear and is one that is worthy of us."

Blake nodded and, catching her eye, gently waved Neeshka forward. She gave him a grin and a wink of mutual commiseration at Okku's contempt for subtlety as she sidled silently to by the door. Okku's great hindquarters tensed and then as Neeshka triggered the magics of the door and its sections slid aside and up into the surrounding walls Okku sprang. Patches along his flanks rippled with slightly different colour and there was a noise of grating stone as he grazed the doorframe and plunged on through. With barely less speed, but more caution, Blake followed with Gann and Neeshka falling in behind him.

Beyond the door was a short corridor and chaos as one Hagspawn died beneath Okku's claws and he snarled at the others who had been knocked back by his charge as they attempted to regain their formation or, in a couple of cases, regain their feet. There was just enough room despite the size of the bear-god for Gann to move to one side to protect his flank and Blake to see past him. There was a Hag hanging back and shrieking orders; with how much trouble they'd had with Gulk'aush Blake decided to try to take advantage of her distraction.

The power of the weave answered his incantation and abbreviated gestures and a narrow beam of _Disintegrate _joined Blake's hand and the Hag's upper chest. She shrieked even louder as this ate away at her clothes and her tough flesh and she lost most of a pectoral muscle and the breast above it. As she convulsed and grabbed at the wound with the arm that still worked Okku sprang forward, off his first victim and knocking aside another. One Hagspawn was slightly more on balance than the others and seeing the extra threat to the Hag tried to attack Okku but Gann was there and his spear sank into the other Hagspawn's gut.

While this Hagspawn folded over Gann's spear, and the scent of ruptured bowels added itself to the already foul air of the chamber, Okku' great jaws closed over the Hag's head. His mouth was large enough to engulf it and as he shook her about by this grip his teeth almost met though the muscle and skin and tendon and bone of the Hag's tough old neck. With one final heave of his own huge neck and his shoulders Okku flung the Hag across and into the Hagspawn that had begun to regroup.

Blake had seen them gathering but had not tried to prevent this since he still had some spells that would be useful if they were clustered nicely. As the Hag bowled into them and scattered and disrupted them slightly again Blake decided to just stick to his favourite. With very well practised ease Blake chanted, the weave responded, and a ball of flame formed in front of him before splitting and arcing away in the individual balls of _Firebrand_. One of the balls swooped down onto the Hag so despite the wound to her torso and her near decapitation she had still been clinging to life.

Meanwhile Gann dumped the almost-corpse off his spear and onto the floor and having raised the butt end of his spear to angle the spearhead down he reversed this to sweep it around in an arc into his enemy's head. There was a crunch as metal bands met bone and fragments of skull were driven into the Hagspawn's brain. He stepped back and away from the corpse, a little saddened that this was such a bloody homecoming.

Blake's sword swept out in a powerful diagonal forehand blow that laid one Hagspawn open from shoulder to opposite hip. This turned Blake's side towards another Hagspawn who moved to smash his club into Blake's exposed ribs. As he brought his arm back across his body for the backhanded blow Neeshka's rapier darted out and sliced across the back of his hand and severed the tendons that held his fingers closed so all his swing did was send his club skittering across the stone floor. Before the Hagspawn could really feel surprise at this or the pain in his hand Neeshka's rapier had whipped back around to slice though his throat.

Okku pounced at another, dagger length claws piercing the hide armour and the tough flesh beneath as he bore the Hagspawn down to the floor. The impact of the back of the Hagspawn's head on the stone would have been stunning enough even without having both shoulders crushed beneath Okku's paws. Not being inclined to leave a foe merely crippled the bear-god snapped his jaws down between these front paws and bit the Hagspawn's face off.

Seeing the fate of his fellows the final Hagspawn turned as if considering whether to flee for reinforcements but this took his shield out of line and allowed Gann to stab out and upwards into his waist. The spearhead sliced into the soft meat and up under the ribcage through the vital organs beneath until it grated on bone as its tip just pierced out through the Hagspawn's upper chest. Gann had not intended to transfix his enemy to that extent and had to let go of his spear and let the Hagspawn fall before he could get a better angle to try to pull his spear back out again.

While Gann did this Blake pulled his cleaning cloth from his belt and began wiping off his sword and wandering. The architecture of the room was quite nice with stonework that was still attractive despite the decay, the triangular platform filling the middle of the wide floor, and the columns of light reaching up from that towards the ceiling high above. That those columns of light contained Hags rather than something more attractive and were surrounded by corpses in varying states of decay did spoil the effect though.

Blake checked there was only one other door aside from the one by which they had entered and smiled as he saw how far Okku's glancing blow to that doorframe had knocked the guides out of alignment. The two parts of the door that slid out from left and right were trapped within the walls so only the section that slid down had been able to move, and that seemed to have jammed partway. Returning to the triangular platform Blake looked at the two humans and a Mind Flayer that were still on their feet and then crouched by one of the corpses.

"I see why you smelt death, my friend," Blake commented to Okku, examining the corpse. It was just rotten enough to be gruesomely fascinating to him. Though he had seen, and made, many corpses since leaving West Harbour he'd only seen them fresh or very badly decayed when a corpse someone else had made was returned as a Zombie to trouble the living.

"That smell is not one that should engender pleasant dreams," said Gann, looking around and wiping off the head and shaft of his spear. "However deeply these Hags sleep that they are satisfied to be surrounded thus does show their nature to be as malevolent as my mother and her punishment suggested."

Neeshka wandered up onto the platform to peer at the standing figures. "Are those two, and that Mind Flayer, still alive?"

"Not for long," replied Gann, also considering them. "They seem locked in dreams and, unlike the Hags of the Slumbering Coven, will not be sustained to survive forever thus. Without aid or them breaking their own dreams they will soon enough join their unfortunate predecessors on the floor."

"If there is that risk it seems dangerous asking the advice of this coven," Blake commented, "and that neither the queue nor these corpses did not discourage them shows they must have been very desperate."

"Wretched Hags," growled Okku, glaring at the columns of light and their contents. "Give me the word and I'll tear them to pieces. All of them once we have our answers, or a few to encourage the others to give them."

"So what now?" Neeshka asked, glancing between the Hags and the standing but insensate figures and the corpses on the floor. "I don't want to end up 'locked in dreams'… or dead on the floor."

"And I don't want you to end up like that either," replied Blake, peering more closely at one of the Hags and deciding on a direct approach. "Hello?"

"Stab them?" Neeshka asked with a raise of her eyebrows, suggesting even more direct approaches. "Or let Okku do as he suggested and tear a few apart and see if that gets their attention?"

"These energy fields," said Gann, gesturing, "prevent us from slaying these crones as they sleep, but from here we _can_ invade their collective dream, and perhaps destroy them from within."

Blake turned and looked at Gann, giving him a very dubious look at that suggestion. Gann looked calmly back until Blake spoke. "That sounds like fighting them on their own terms, on a battlefield of their creation and under their control."

"Their power is great, true," Gann said reassuringly, "but my own _should_ be sufficient to prevent them manipulating the Dreamscape against us."

Slowly Blake nodded. He trusted Gann and although he would prefer Okku's idea and to remain outside of dreams it did seem more likely the Coven would speak to them in the Dreamscape than if they were rudely awoke by the death or maiming of part of their group. There was likely some way they could contrive to slay the crones despite the energy fields but that had not been their reason for travelling here although, after their encounter with Gann's mother, that was something they might do whatever the Coven's answers before leaving again.

"Very well," Blake replied with noticeable reluctance. "Let us hope for success in travelling in and out of dream, or failing that at least that the old stories are true and Neeshka could awaken me with a kiss."

"And what of me?" smiled Gann.

"Ever been kissed by a man with a beard?" Neeshka asked sweetly.

"Ah," said Gann, "a true motivation to avoid failure if that would be my reward. Though I am sure you would vouch he is a good kisser I'd prefer to not have this confirmed by my own experience."

"Your loss," Neeshka winked, giving Blake a grin as she saw her harbour-boy's expression.


	13. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Even Gann did not know how long they might remain in the Dreamscape though they had a good idea of how long would be too long. The two of them took the chance to empty their bladders, not adding appreciably to the smell since the corpses had already done this, and to eat some jerky and take a good drink of water before joining Okku and Neeshka in the other preparations. Some of the corpses were moved off the platform to clear a more pleasant space for Gann and Blake and others, including the fresh Hag and Hagspawn corpses were moved all the way to near the doors. Neeshka smiled and moved back from the closed door that she had managed to lock, and out of the way of her harbour-boy and Gann.

As they stacked them to block the ways in and out of the room Blake frowned. "This is not really honouring Jergal and proper burial, but no more disrespectful than the Hags leaving them to lie and rot near where they fell."

Gann rolled his eyes slightly at this being a consideration as honouring those supposed Gods was no concern of his. Neeshka meanwhile was dealing with more practical matters and showed that she had not only recovered rather than simply disabled the trap from the room in the Sloop Inn but was also carrying more traps. These she arranged happily on the closed door and the semi-closed door and the grotesque barricades. Soon there were some painful surprises waiting for anyone who tried to force their way into the room and Blake could not put things off any longer.

Settling down onto his knees on a bedroll with Gann kneeling beside him he closed his eyes and calmed himself. Gradually a sensation of drifting away into warm waters began to slip into his mind and Blake relaxed into this and tried to flow with the currents. But then it was like some predator had been lurking beneath the surface, something that grabbed hold of him and flung him about until darkness rushed towards him from all directions. Blake held still rather than flail, letting his mind settle and his mental eyes adjust to the dark and then this cleared to reveal a familiar sight.

"Good to see you made it Gann," Blake commented, glancing around the back room of the Veil Theatre, "and that we are together rather than in different dreams."

"Hurry Blake!" Magda chided. "Or you'll miss the final scene…"

Blake looked at the dream-image of the Dwarven woman and then decided on a polite but direct approach. "Where is the Slumbering Coven, Magda? I've come here to find them."

"No, you've come for the play," Magda contradicted him firmly. "We composed it for you, or don't you remember? And we named it like you asked - The Betrayer's Crusade."

"That was not the play you were going to compose," replied Blake, quirking one eyebrow. "In fact you said your own involvement made it dangerous to compose…"

"There _is_ something deeper in her request," Gann commented, his eyes a little unfocussed as he concentrated on his feelings, "an undercurrent. We should follow its pull and see where this play leads."

"And 'The Betrayer's Crusade'…" Blake nodded, taking the advice, "this tale we have heard from Kaelyn and from the priests and scribes of Myrkul. That we are hearing it again in this dream is strengthening some suspicions."

"Go ahead, step up on stage," said Magda enthusiastically, the dream-image feeling Blake's willingness to go with the flow of the dream. "We've reserved the Betrayer's part for you. You remember your lines, don't you?"

"The Betrayer's part, of _course_ you reserved that…." Blake began to say at this confirmation of a link to the Betrayer, until he realised something else. "Hang on, you want me to go out there in front of an audience?"

"A tough crowd, to be sure. But they won't devour us," Magda reassured him, before spoiling the effect by adding, "as long as you don't disappoint them. Now… weren't you about to tell me that you've forgotten your lines?"

"Forgotten? I never knew them."

"Of course, the forgetting is in the script too. I'll set the stage and you can make up your lines as you go along," nodded Magda. "The Crusade has failed… the Betrayer's army is crushed, and he must give his final commands to his lieutenants. The dark god Myrkul is close at your heels. You must make these orders count… they shall be your legacy… perhaps all that shall ever remain of you."

"Fine," Blake said slowly and reluctantly. "I shall go out on this stage and hope this dream will give me some more insight."

"Ah, you have a dreamwalker's heart," smiled Gann, not being entirely sincere, "you swim with the currents, not fight them… if given the right prompting at least."

Blake frowned at Gann but before he could speak Magda did. "Not a dream, a play…or perhaps there is little difference. No matter, get up on stage, and hurry! The audience is getting restless."

With that Magda bustled off and ahead. After a moment Blake and Gann followed and saw the three actors of the Veil Theatre standing on the stage in simple costumes but wearing masks to represent the roles they were playing. That was not unusual but, unless the Veil normally had quite a strange clientele, the audience was. A Fire Giant towered over the others though he was outweighed by the far broader Hezrou. They both made the tall figure of a Djinn seem small and he, in turn, made a female Werewolf look almost as small as the rather cute ones the two Gnome sisters had turned into.

"As Magda said, a tough crowd," Blake commented quietly to Gann. "That is not Fentomy or even an echo of him though I think."

"Wonderful," Gann commented back, "just 'a' Djinn rather than a particular Djinn. That will help if they do try to kill us."

"I am Zoab, of white wings and golden brow," orated Wallace nobly, seeing their arrival, "born in the radiance of Celestia. For mercy and for justice I swore to bring down the Wall."

"I am Rammaq, the old, the dead," added Lothario, trying to put a tone of evilness into his words. "Thrice have I glimpsed godhood and thrice has that prize been snatched away from me. For the knowledge I was promised I swore to bring down the wall."

"And I am Sey'ryu, the vast and the glorious," said the actress, who in the course of the breakfast they had learned was called Amber Rose, "who soars the desert skies, blue upon blue. For the debt I owe to you Betrayer I swore to bring down the wall."

"The God of the Dead draws near," continued Wallace, turning dramatically to Blake, "and our battle is lost. What would _you_ have of your generals?"

Blake paused a moment, thought, and then spoke with the authority that Kana's lessons let him put into his voice. "We flee, regroup, and finish this battle another day. The God of Death can wait."

"What?" protested the Air Genasi, Vesper Jinn, from the side of the stage. "That isn't in the script!"

"You're right," Magda nodded. "That isn't how it goes at all."

"No, you're _wrong_," Blake replied firmly. "Retreating to attack another day, preserving part of our forces for raids against the City of Judgment and as cadre to rebuild around, rather than wasting our lives in a 'glorious' last stand, makes sense to me and more so since I can feel this _is_ how it went. That _is_ the order Akachi gave."

"No, wrong again," contradicted Magda. "I told everyone you knew this part, but you've made a fool of me…"

"Boo! Boo! We want our money back!" called one of the audience members as Blake and Magda locked gazes. "The actor doesn't even know his part!"

"Something is wrong with this dream," Gann cautioned Blake quietly, "it is not coming from _you_ but it is coming from _within_ you…"

"More memories from the curse?" Blake asked and suggested. Gann nodded to this.

"Mm, perhaps we should skip to the final scene…" said Magda suddenly, some malice entering her voice, "where the Betrayer is captured and tortured and punished. He won't need to know any lines to play _that_ scene properly."

"Yes!" Vesper almost hissed. "He'll only need to know how to scream…"

Magda and Vesper charged in from either side of the stage. Although rather surprised by this Blake's reactions took over and his sword hissed from its scabbard and around to smack the flat of the blade into the side of Magda's skull. This could still be a fatal blow, especially with the magic imbued on Blake's blade, and he was not sure why he should care about the life of a dream-creature. It still felt more right though to at least try to disable rather than decapitate an unarmed untrained foe. Similarly Gann brought his spear around low to either stab at Vesper's lower leg or attempt to trip him. Then a weight slammed into Gann.

The Werewolf had bounded up from the theatre floor, barely touching down at the edge of the stage before she sprang again, leaving claw-scars in the wood. Gann staggered as her claws dug into her leather armour and as he did his spear came up and the charging Vesper impaled himself. With his spear stuck in Vesper's guts and the Werewolf driving him to one side as he tried to fend her off Gann lost his grip on his spear. He twisted and brought his forearm around to shove across the werewolf's jaws and try to force her head back and prevent her from being able to snap at him.

"Madame, please," Gann commented as she tried to work her rear teeth through the thick leather over his forearm, or get her head back far enough to free herself from the pressure Gann was applying. "I generally appreciate attention from the ladies, but you are being a bit too clingy."

A deep snarl came from the Werewolf's mouth as she shifted the grip of her claws and tried to rake those on one rear paw through both Gann's armour and Gann himself. Although these scored deep furrows in the leather he was fortunate and they did not slice through and into him. Blake glanced to either side of the stage where the stairs were creaking as the Fire Giant and Hezrou attempted to climb them and then muttered a quick invocation to cast a _Fireball_ at the Djinn. This did not seem to cause serious injury but did appear to stun the turbaned figure and there were a few moments before the larger opponents could finish trying to fit their huge feet to the comparatively tiny stair treads.

As Gann and the Werewolf wrestled it was hard to get a good angle for a sword strike against the latter. Blake made a couple of tentative dabs at her but both times she twisted and prevented that becoming a proper attack. As useless as Blake's efforts were in inflicting a direct wound though they were very distracting and Gann was able to take advantage of this. Getting a good grip on a handful of fur Gann heaved and threw the Werewolf aside, leaving more tears in his leather armour and a good size chunk of fur in his hand.

With a slight yelp the Werewolf thudded onto the floor and then slid across the polished floorboards of the short corridor to smack her head against the frame of the door into the back room. Gann quickly grabbed his spear as he could see just as well as Blake that the Djinn was recovering and that the Fire Giant and Hezrou had managed the stairs. Blake glanced to either side again and then gave Gann a smile that worried the Hagspawn.

"Follow me!" Blake called, running towards the front of the stage and then leaping off it, his sword pointing out in front of him.

Gann hesitated a moment in shock and surprise and then followed. The Djinn had been even more surprised and had needed to hurriedly step to one side to avoid Blake's attack. This had left the Djinn slightly off balance but as Blake landed and continued on a few steps he was unable to take advantage of this as he was even more off-balance. Gann though was able to judge his own jump to thrust his spear ahead of him and at the distracted Djinn. Again Gann lost his grip on his spear as he released it rather than be twisted around by the drag of it.

As the Djinn crumpled with Gann's spear through him Blake recovered and turned and swept his sword across the Djinn's back. He cut deep into spine and the back of the ribs and whatever organs the Djinn had beneath those. Despite the magic of Blake's sword the blade dragged enough through the flesh and bones for him to feel a distinct twinge in his wrist. The Djinn flopped forward onto his knees as the force of Blake's blow overcame the rearward momentum Gann's blow had given him and as he did the butt end of the spear through his chest dug into the theatre floor. The head of Gann's spear was already jutting from the Djinn's back but now a considerable portion of spear shaft was also driven through and out.

Gann looked at this with some displeasure as that would make it difficult to remove his spear from the Djinn and he would prefer to not fight the remaining opponents armed with nothing more than a dagger. Blake meanwhile took advantage of the Djinn's slumped forward, but supported by the spear, posture to bring his sword down and onto the exposed rear of the Djinn's neck. It took a few blows for Blake to manage to decapitate the Djinn and with each blow he also drove more of Gann's spear through the Djinn's chest. With an expression of distaste Gann realised it was going to be easier to pull the spear the rest of the way through rather than back out the way it had entered.

There was a thump as the Fire Giant and Hezrou jumped down from the stage and a smaller thump as the Djinn's head finally came free. Gann steeled himself and, bracing one foot on the Djinn's back, grabbed the blood-slicked wood of the shaft and heaved. With a slight slurping noise and a grating as the iron bands bumped against the bone Gann managed to wrench his spear free and stagger back away from the stage to join Blake who was also retreating.

"I doubt we can get out those doors," Gann cautioned, trying to not think about the blood smearing under his gauntlets.

"True, but that isle is not that wide," replied Blake, "and what is traditionally the enemy of fire?"

"Ah," Gann replied, and as the Hezrou and Fire Giant moved shoulder to shoulder towards them he called upon the spirits. He was still reluctant to ask them for such gifts and was beginning to regret having shown that he could. The spirits responded though and a _Burst of Glacial Wrath_ enveloped both huge figures.

This seemed to affect the Fire Giant even more than the Hezrou as he collapsed where the Infernal did not. Shouldering the falling Fire Giant aside the Hezrou advanced and swatted one meaty arm at its tiny opponents. Blake was rather glad this dream-creature was not as chatty as Zaxis since one idiot like that had been enough for one lifetime. It had been a disappointment when they had gained Zaxis' true name only to find she was too stupid to understand what being told to stop referring to herself in the third person meant.

However these thoughts did not distract Blake from slicing his sword up to meet the Hezrou's attack. Enchanted metal met Infernal flesh and a shallow cut appeared across that arm. The Hezrou bellowed in pain and its blow went wide, deflected more by the pain than any force behind Blake's blow. Gann saw a chance and stabbed out to drive his spear into the open mouth where the Infernal's skin was not so thick. Metal of spearhead grated against bone of spine and then teeth against wood as the Hezrou's broad mouth clamped down in reflex and Gann twisted his spear in the wound and withdrew.

Blake stepped back in and drew his sword across the Hezrou's gut, putting his shield hand on the hilt and driving forward as if he was trying to push a cart out of the frequent axle deep mud of the Mere. This cut was a lot deeper than the one on the arm and as the Hezrou convulsed it drove its own bowels out through the slit. Stabbed through the back of the mouth and with its innards becoming 'out-ards' the Infernal fell forward. Blake and Gann sidestepped to avoid being squashed by this and then as the Hezrou twisted onto its side to make one last feeble flail at them it exposed the side of its head. Gann stepped back in and drove his spear down through the thinner bone at the Hezrou's temple and into the brain beneath it.

Meanwhile the Fire Giant slowly forced himself to his feet, his movements showing he was still badly affected by Gann's magic. He took one somewhat staggering stride towards Blake and Gann. Blake looked at this stride and his sword licked out and across the Fire Giant's knee. Skin and the tendons on one side of the joint parted at this light touch and the forward stagger suddenly became sideways as well. One huge foot caught on a hay bale and the Giant tripped, sprawling and sending other hay bales bouncing across the dirt floor and into the wall. Gann lithely leapt and onto the Giant's back, riding him like a harpooner on a whale as he started stabbing down and into spine and heart and neck.

Blake circled a little to see if he could help with this by cutting at legs or arms to hinder the Fire Giant's attempts to throw Gann off. Suddenly there was a growling snarl and Blake barely twisted in time, even with spells increasing his speed, to manage to get his shield in line. The impact still drove him back as the female werewolf plastered herself against his shield. She clung on and tried to drag it down and aside while at the same time trying to rake past it with her claws and snap past it with her teeth. This weight kept Blake from regaining the balance he had lost to the impact and this loss of balance and the length of his blade made it very hard to strike back.

As he wrestled to keep his shield between himself and the werewolf and the occasional hit from her claws screeched across his armour Blake considered dropping his sword so he could draw his dagger for this close in work. Longer blades needed more room to use so some armies preferred shorter blades for a tighter formation. His training in the militia had been more about fighting as an individual though and he had noticed the armies of Neverwinter, perhaps because of the long enmity with the mages of Luskan and their fireballs, also preferred a looser formation and larger blades. That did not help here though.

What did help was the butt of Gann's spear slamming into the side of the Werewolf's head as she drew it back for another snap. This disengaged her from Blake's shield and he was able to take the quick step back he needed. He swung his sword in at the Werewolf's head but turned it to strike with the flat of the blade. There was a slightly sickening crunch as this blow broke the arm she raised to protect her head. The Werewolf fell with a howl strangled by how breathless the pain in her shattered forearm had left her and then Blake swung again, the flat of his blade this time reaching the side of her head. Her eyes rolled up as awareness left her.

"There are some, many, who choose to become Lycanthropes," Gann commented, as Blake bent to tilt the Werewolf's head so she'd not swallow her tongue, "and deserve no mercy as they revel in the blood they can now more easily shed. There are others though who feel it a curse and even if this is a dream…"

"I did mention those Gnome sisters," Blake replied, straightening, "and given my condition I can hardly object to showing mercy, where it does not endanger us, to those suffering from a curse. She might still die, if this were not a dream, from a smashed skull but it did feel better to give that chance rather than decapitate her."

Gann nodded, accepting that Blake's compassion only went so far, and they moved back towards the stage. The three actors in their masks still stood there, showing themselves to be dream-creatures by their calmness compared with how the real people had reacted to the fight against the Red Wizards and Gnolls. They looked down at Blake and Gann like puppets waiting to be moved.

"Hmm…" Blake muttered to Gann, looking down and around at the corpses, "seems I didn't play that scene very well either. Was not _me_ who ended up screaming."

"The Betrayer will return," said Wallace, reacting to this as he had not to the bloodshed, "and we will wait for him, as we promised."

"See," Blake commented, "I _said_ they fled to fight another day."

"We will watch for the opening of the Gate," added Lothario.

"Look for us on the day the Betrayer returns," Amber said. "We will storm the City of Judgement at his side and our oaths will be fulfilled at last…"

Her voice trailed off as she and the other actors vanished, though the corpses and the fallen did not. A portal shimmered into appearance near the front doors and Blake and Gann turned to look at it and then to each other. "That dream was powerful, and there was much truth in it I think," commented Gann. "The portal will lead us onward…"

"Onward to what though?" Blake mused, wiping his sword off. "Still… as you said, follow the flow, not fight against it."

With that and with caution they stepped into the portal. The world wavered and Blake let out a grunt of annoyance as he saw the Chamber of Dreamers appear around them. There was something strange about the scene though and Blake nodded as he realised what. "No Slumbering Coven, no corpses around their feet, and no Okku or Neeshka awaiting our return."

"This is a dream of where the Coven dreams," replied Gann, looking around and assessing their surroundings, "and where these others dream with them… perhaps we need to divert through _their_ dreamscapes as a route to the Coven."

"Worth trying…" Blake said, looking at the standing figures, "let us try the one in wizard-robes first, the other fellow has enough fat to wait a little longer."

Gann concentrated and the dreamscape shimmered again as their perceptions and that man's shifted into alignment and the flow of their dreams merged. In a way the result was rather disappointing as a normal looking house appeared rather than something more dramatic. There was a Devil present but he seemed safely enclosed in a summoning circle so, with a nod to Gann, Blake slid his sword back into his scabbard. The man whose dream they had chosen was also present though in his agitated muttering to himself he did not seem to have noticed their arrival.

"There's got to be something I'm overlooking! Something I…" the man said, pacing and turning and breaking off as he finally saw Blake and Gann. "Oh! You there! You have to help me! This thing, this vile creature, claims to have the right to my soul."

"You mean that…" Blake said, pausing a moment to think, "Falxugon in the circle over there?""

"Why, yes!" exclaimed the man in a surprised tone. "So you have some experience with Infernal beings then?"

"I was acquainted with a Warlock who saw them as a path to power and collected them, though that method had the obvious drawback of them wanting to 'collect' him if his control over them slipped."

"Hmm, though that is not your most intimate experience with Infernals," smiled Gann, "or with part-Infernals at least."

"I am not sure I want to know what your friend means," the man commented, "but it is a shame about the Warlock not being here. He must have been extraordinarily powerful and such expertise would come in handy right about now."

"All he meant was that my lady-love happens to be a Tiefling, and expertise with what?"

"Ah, well the matter at hand concerns the contract I signed with that, what did you call it again?" the man asked, "A Falxugon?"

"You signed a contract with a _Devil_?" Blake frowned. "What were the terms of this agreement?"

"Not my soul, that's for sure!" replied the man defensively. "We simply agreed on a number of favours he would grant me if I did certain things for him."

"Sounds simple and straightforward, perhaps too much so," commented Blake, "at least in the tales Infernal contracts are rather more complex. Do you have a copy of this contract?"

"Yes, but I need to keep looking through it," said the man, before glaring with unimpressive ferocity at the Falxugon. "I'm sure he has another copy on his person though, just to taunt me in case I lose mine."

"I shall ask him then," Blake replied, "I can at least have a look in case I see something your familiarity with the contract is causing your eyes to skim past."

It was not with any great hope of success that Blake approached the Infernal, nor any great motivation, but until and unless another portal appeared in this dreamscape he had nothing much better to do. The Devil glanced at them as they walked across and gave them a practised smile that was almost as smarmy as the one Gann had offered on his and Blake's first meeting. "Greetings my friend," the Falxugon said, "I hope our good friend Faras here hasn't concerned you overmuch with talk of our business relationship."

"Concerned, no," Blake replied, "his business is his business, as are the consequences, but he has piqued my curiosity mildly with him being so certain you have no claim on his soul and also saying you disagree on that."

"Why, yes, of course I disagree," said the Falxugon, with an even more smarmy smile, "but only because I am right. I _do_ have a claim on his soul. It is all explicitly stated in the contract."

"I don't doubt you ensured that," Blake said politely, "and that if he asked that you would be willing to show him exactly where that was stated. Perhaps I could do you both a favour though? If you have a copy of the contract I can look at then, if I find the truth of what you say, he might be more willing to accept it was his mistake for not noticing this than if you have to point it out to him."

"Of course. Here, you may peruse it at your leisure," agreed the Falxugon, smiling yet again as he handed over a scroll. "If you have any questions about it then feel free to ask, though I expect you will find it clear enough. Unlike him. And I do hope you are right in thinking you can end his complaining."

"We shall have to see," Blake said, taking the scroll and retreating a few steps.

Blake unfurled the scroll and began to look dubious as it became apparent just how tightly it had been rolled. And how small some of the writing on it was. Gann leaned in with polite interest and also started to peruse the document. There were a few moments of silence from the pair of them though Faras continued to pace and mutter and disturb the quiet of the dreamscape-room.

"That is of impressive length," Gann commented, "and…"

"And although you have heard that said many times…" interrupted Blake in a distracted tone.

"I _was_ actually going to say I was no expert in contracts and legal matters," Gann corrected, before smiling and adding, "But there is truth in your assumption."

"Hmm," nodded Blake. "And no surprises so far here either. What looks like standard text on the power of the Devils and the certainty of their victory over the Demons… and Faras' name appears… and now a long section citing the Pact Primeval, which I think is their law code…"

"Fascinating," Gann said, his tone indicating otherwise.

"Indeed," Blake replied with a sigh. "Ah… favours and rewards. Hrm…"

"You have seen something that will end this tedium of watching you read?" asked Gann hopefully.

"No. Just the opposite," Blake said, tilting his head, "all of these seem a simple exchange of favour for deed. More standard text… Faras' signature, what looks like the Devil's signature… and, ah, above those signatures some very tiny text…"

Blake rolled the contract up again, though not as tightly as before, and moved back across to the muttering Faras who gave him a look of transparent appeal.

"Well? He's wrong, right?" asked Faras hopefully. "This doesn't say anything about giving it my soul. I made sure that none of the things I had to do involved my soul in any way."

"The tasks and favours don't," Blake replied, "but look here. Did you notice the text just here above your signature?"

"What?" Faras exclaimed, squinting at his own copy of the contract. "Oh gods! I didn't even see that, I just checked the conditions and signed it."

"You," Blake started, before deciding to be a little more diplomatic and shifting his tone. "You were dealing with a Devil and rather than read the whole thing you just checked the conditions and signed it?"

"Did you see how long that thing is?" Faras replied defensively. "Did you read the whole thing just now?"

"No," Blake admitted, before being unable to prevent himself from adding, "but then again, _despite_ it not being _my_ soul at stake, I still read it carefully enough to find that it said you would forfeit your soul if you fulfilled all the favours."

Faras looked for a moment at Blake and then glanced away. "You are right of course, I should have read it more thoroughly but… but, wait! I didn't fulfil all the favours."

"Are you certain?"

"Of course," Faras replied with growing confidence. "You hear that Devil! I didn't do all the favours, the contract was not completed, you cannot have my soul."

"Ah, but all the favours were done," came the calm reply from the Infernal, "and all the rewards given."

"No they weren't!" said Faras in automatic denial.

"Let us be absolutely sure," Blake interrupted, "which favours did you not fulfil?"

"The third one," Faras said, after a momentary glance at the contract. "I never cast an evil spell…"

"You do recall that you summoned me to answer your questions?" asked the Falxugon, his smile becoming more sinister and less smarmy.

"Yes, because your other favours all vanished you cheat!"

Blake sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before he trusted his voice. "It does say they would only last a year you know," Blake pointed out, "right above where they are listed."

"It does? Hells!" asked and exclaimed Faras in surprise, before repeating. "But I still never cast an evil spell."

"On the contrary," corrected the Falxugon with unhidden satisfaction, "summoning a denizen of the Nine Hells, as you did, _would_ be considered evil in most circles. I thank you for fulfilling that favour."

"Oh Gods!" said Faras, sounding rather as if he was about to pass out.

"Try to remain clear minded," Blake told him, unrolling his copy of the contract a little for reference. "Now, as you thought you had not done this task I take it that you would not have claimed the reward for it?"

"No… wait, that means I still have a 'wish of limited power'," replied Faras, more hope coming to his face as he had an idea. "Ahem, I wish I had never signed that contract…"

After waiting a moment Blake nodded, unsurprised at the lack of success. "Seems the wish is too limited in power or that you did use it sometime, now was there another task unfulfilled?"

"Causing the death of another," nodded Faras. "I have never killed anyone, never even seen a dead body thanks be to Kelemvor."

"Think carefully though," Blake replied, a little envious that Faras had managed to avoid killing and death, "it doesn't say kill, it says 'cause the death of another' and that could include less obvious or direct means." Blake checked the favour listed for the task. "Have you noticed yourself become more powerful?"

"Well, it may be hard for you to believe but a few tendays ago I was not the fearsome wizard you see before you. I was still only an eager but inexperienced apprentice."

"No? You do surprise me," Gann said politely while Blake struggled and controlled his own reaction.

"That argues for the favour having been done," said Blake eventually, "and you have not denied having done the previous favour of grievously wounding someone."

"No! I mean, yes," Faras replied. "When I was speaking to Enzibur here… after fulfilling the third favour it seems… my master's other apprentice, Ithias, burst into the room. He threatened to tell our master Galban so in a panic I cast a spell at him and he got a face full of acid.

"Fatal?" Blake asked.

"I may be no paladin," said Faras with understatement, "but I did check him before I fled. The acid will leave a mark, or ten, but those were not mortal wounds."

"So you fled, and accidents can happen in a pursuit," Blake mused. "Were you ever caught?"

"Yes… Galban must have found Ithias and then he found me. He said I was dangerous and began chanting a spell. I didn't know what to do, no spell I knew would have protected me, so I just closed my eyes and cowered."

Blake nodded, again not surprised. "Well, you are here so somehow you escaped. How?"

"It was strange…" replied Faras thoughtfully, "as I was cowering and waiting for the end I heard this crackle of energy, a harrumph of surprise, and then nothing. I opened my eyes and found nothing but some dust, he was gone."

"Which, if he was the dust, does sound rather fatal," Blake pointed out, "hard even for a cleric of great power to reverse."

"But that is just it, I didn't do anything," protested Faras. "I was too scared and it wouldn't have done any good… all I did was cringe and wish he would go away."

"You wished? And this was after you earned a 'wish of limited power' from Enzibur?"

"You're right," said Faras with dawning horror, "that must be where the wish went. That dust was my master and I wished for it. I did it! I'm responsible for my master's death."

"Maybe, but perhaps not," Blake mused, more thoughtful than consoling, "you wished he would go away, you said? Not that he be killed?"

"Yes, I thought 'go away' over and over while I cringed, but what does that matter? He is still dead."

"It makes little difference to him," Blake admitted, "but I do have a vague memory that suggests it might affect you. Let me speak to Enzibur."

Faras nodded, some happiness fuelled by self-interest breaking through his grief and guilt over his master. Enzibur looked less happy as he saw some hope on Faras' face but he hid this beneath a diplomatic expression as Blake got closer.

"Ah, hello again my friend," Enzibur smarmed. "You seem to have some sort of idea or query from your _scintillating_ conversation with Faras."

"A memory sparked by his tale," Blake replied. "One about you needing the mortals to act of their own free will in signing the contract, and a question about if that also applied to their actions in carrying out their side of the bargain."

"Ah the rules, always the rules," sighed Enzibur dramatically. "You are correct, we cannot coerce you to sign the contract and if your souls are to be damned then it must be by your own doing."

"Then I suggest you are in breach of those rules, as part of Faras' actions were not by his own doing."

"Indeed?" said Enzibur, with some disdain, "I did not coerce him into anything if that is what you are suggesting."

"True, he entered the contract of his own will, but you granted him a wish. Was that wish how his master died and this the death you claim he caused?"

"Of course," agreed Enzibur. "I heard him telling you about it and how much strongly he was wishing. I was, of course, happy to oblige as a bargain is a bargain and so I cast the _Disintegrate _spell myself."

"Which is the problem," Blake nodded, "he did not wish for his master to die, he wished for him to go away. A spell of teleportation would have more accurately fulfilled that wish."

"So? Let us suppose you are correct, if I did misinterpret then what difference?" Enzibur asked, beginning to frown a little. "The wish was made and here we are."

"By your misinterpretation you made Faras responsible for the death of Galban," Blake pointed out, deepening Enzibur's frown, "and therefore it was by your actions that Faras fulfilled a condition of the contract. Not by his own."

"Don't be silly. I didn't force… it was not my actions…" floundered Enzibur. "Wait. Let me think a moment."

Blake waited a moment and then a moment longer for the sake of politeness. "I am right aren't I?" Blake said with a slight smile. "The contract _is_ void."

"Damn you mortal!" growled Enzibur, failing to intimidate Blake after the more powerful Devils and Demons he had encountered. "I shall not forget this."

With that threat the Falxugon vanished and Faras' anxious expression changed to one of near orgasmic relief. He hurried over grinning and babbling incoherently for a several seconds before he was able to speak. He glanced around as if he was expecting that it was a trick and Enzibur was just hiding. "What happened? Why did he leave? Am I safe and free?"

"As he put it, your soul has to be damned by your own actions," Blake replied, "and him choosing to kill rather than teleport Galban to make him 'go away' meant it was _his_ actions that made you fulfil that final condition. That nullified the entire contract."

"Really? Thank the Gods you came along, I would never have fig…" began Faras, before stopping and forcing a more dignified tone. "I mean, you saved me a _little_ time figuring that out. Thank you so much, but that said I _really_ must be off."

"Aye," Blake said, not taking offence, "your body is standing and dying of thirst back in the Chamber of Dreamers."

"What?" exclaimed Faras, reminded that this was a dream. He paused a moment as he tried to figure out whether Blake and Gann were just part of the dream and whether he was going to have to speak to Enzibur in reality as well. But the more important thing seemed to be the 'dying of thirst' part so off he rushed.

"Finished?" Gann asked.

"Seems so," replied Blake, "we are alone and a portal has appeared to take us onwards."

"Then let us be through this next portal before some other fool tweaks your heroic conscience."

Blake smiled and nodded and, making sure his sword was free in its scabbard, led the way to and into the portal. Again the dreamscape shifted around them and again they found themselves in the Chamber of Dreamers. This scene had changed though from the last time. "Even emptier this time," Blake commented. "Still no hags and this time no people, just a single portal."

"There is much to be said for simplicity of choice," Gann replied, "though I prefer my dreams to be more freely flowing."

They walked up the few stairs onto the triangular platform, in the middle of which the frameless portal floated. With another nod to each other they entered this and found themselves somewhere unfamiliar. Blake tensed as he saw the style of the architecture and the robes worn by the man standing ahead of them with his back to them. He revealed his agitation as he checked his sword again even though it was only a few moments since he had last checked.

"This looks similar to the Temple of Myrkul in Shadow Mulsantir," muttered Blake, "and that ahead looks like a Red Wizard, and one powerful or lucky enough to have reached old age…"

"Or is he a Red Wizard?" Gann cautioned him. "Remember what I said at the Mosstone about metaphor and illusion."

Blake tersely nodded to Gann's words as he conceded that. "We shall try speaking to him and see if this dream flows other than violence."

"Moreover," added Gann, frowning as he looked past the Red Wizard, "that black portal… that is not something native to our world, or even the realm of dreams. Another mystery to be learned of."

"It began here," the Red Wizard said, still facing the black portal that had caught Gann's interest. "I stood at the Betrayer's side, at my brother's side. They were gathered around us… celestials, dragons, mortals both alive and dead. Did the room expand to hold such a host? Or is my memory too small?"

"Ah, so Akachi's brother was a Red Wizard," breathed Blake. "You people were involved in the creation of this curse as well as in my becoming its victim."

"I can see why your thoughts are turning this way," Gann agreed, "what the Wood Man said bore out what Nak'kai said and you did seem to have some insight back in the dream-theatre. It would explain why your dreams are filled with details of this, though it still leaves much unanswered."

"Indeed," nodded Blake, "not least of which is the mystery of this portal and its connection to Akachi. Dream-wizard, do you answer our questions?"

"We stand before the Betrayer's Gate," replied the Red Wizard. "A door that should not be. Rest your eyes upon its edges and its grooves, watch them carefully and you can sense the wrongness. Death and Life flow together in that simple slab of rock. Pass through it and you will see the place of final judgement."

"Or more simply put," Blake said, wanting just Oghma's knowledge rather than Milil's poetry, "it is a gate that leads to the Fugue Plane and the City of Judgement."

"Yes, the grey city and its wall of screaming souls," continued the Red Wizard, still waxing poetic. "Passage to that forlorn realm should be granted only by death, but this Gate provides another way, a forbidden way…" The Red Wizard's voice shifted towards anger. "A way that my brother opened with his silver blade… I swear to you, if I could take it back, if I could make him see…"

As if that was a cue, which it probably was, a beautiful but severe looking woman chose that moment to walk down the stairs from the raised corridor at the opposite end of the room to the Betrayer's Gate. The disdainful look she glared at the Red Wizard as she descended showed there was no friendship there despite them both being clad in the same style of Robes. There seemed more to their enmity than the usual Thayan infighting even.

"The Red Woman again," Gann commented, admiring the graceful descent, "but not quite. There are subtle differences as if they are dreamed by different minds."

"_You_?" this version of the Red Woman sneered. "Make _him_ see? Araman, you flitting shadow… you were nothing but a leaf borne by a great storm."

"Araman?" Blake echoed, looking at Gann in surprise. "I think that name was mentioned as the leader of the coup at the Thayan Academy. Against Nefris, the Red Wizard who had me put in the barrow."

"Coincidence," mused Gann, "or, perhaps not. The connection is there but unclear. Maybe if we listen further and let this dream flow it will be more apparent."

"Araman, why do you hunt me?" the Red Woman demanded, ignoring Blake and Gann and following her own script. "You would destroy everything your brother strove for, render his sacrifice meaningless."

"Not to destroy. To set things right!" corrected Araman, his own anger rising to meet the Red Woman's. "How could I choose my brother over my god? Yes, I was a feeble flitting thing when I passed through that door. I was borne by my brother's storm, but _I_ learned from his folly. He set mortal love above the gods, so he paid the price. And we paid with him, you and I."

"Be cautious," murmured Gann as the tension rose. "I think choosing one over the other will lead to bloodshed in this dream."

"I have no objection to spilling Red Wizard blood," Blake murmured back, "either or both of them, but corpses give poor answers to questions unless you are a cleric. If we want answers we had best demand them before their argument intensifies to fighting…" Gann considered for an instant whether to suggest that Blake requested rather than demanded answers, but just nodded. At this nod Blake raised his voice. "You, Araman! You hunt her because your God commands it?"

"Yes," Araman replied simply as Gann winced at the tone proving Blake had meant 'demand'. After a moment Araman continued. "I faltered once, for love of my brother, but the lesson of the Crusade, and of my brother's suffering, has reforged my will and my faith. Understand this… I cannot betray my god again."

"And your descendants," pressed Blake, "they still hunt hers? Was the coup at Nefris' academy part of this war?"

"I _have_ no descendants, but by the choice I made I live until I right my brother's wrong," Araman said, correcting the first part of what Blake had said and ignoring the second, "a wrong that might have been stopped here at this gate if I had not been blinded by devotion."

"It would seem the Araman here," commented Gann in surprise, "_is_ a dream-reflection of the same man who you heard mentioned before."

Blake nodded to Gann. "Which means even if I am wrong about how this curse was created," he growled, "his failure to kill Nefris sooner could be blamed for her being alive to have me infected with it." Blake turned to face the Red Woman who was still glaring at Araman. "You, Red Woman," he said, treating her with equal curtness, "he says the 'Crusade' was on your behalf?"

"For the _love_ his brother bore me," said the Red Woman proudly. "All he did… all he suffered… was for _love_."

For a moment Blake tried to control his sudden rage. He could respect Akachi suffering for his love and being willing to do much to save her but he resented that it seemed he was suffering for Akachi's love as well. And he truly resented that Neeshka, who he loved so much, was having to risk her life on her own 'crusade' to save him because of the actions of these people long ago. Blake gave up and decided that these two people seemed too proud for politeness to work. Araman too proud that he had belatedly learned from his mistake and the Red Woman too proud that Akachi had done all of this for her.

"Ah, to the _Hells_ with you both then," Blake growled, surprising Gann as he had intended Blake to choose a side when he cautioned him to be careful which side to pick. "If Myrkul created the spirit-eater curse because of this 'Crusade' then your actions gave him the excuse to cause centuries of suffering. Countless spirits to be devoured by the curse's hunger and the maddening and slow death of all the curse's hosts. You, Red Woman, take blame for being the cause and you, Araman, for not stopping it as you admit you could have."

"You belittle the sacrifice my love made?" protested the Red Woman. "Who are _you_ to criticise _him_!"

"You mock the guilt I feel?" Araman said, almost simultaneously. "Lecture me on what I know so well and have lived with all these centuries?"

"Congratulations," commented Gann, "you seem to have ended centuries of arguing, by drawing their wrath onto _us_ instead."

Blake nodded and drew his sword as both Red Wizards muttered words of power. Reinforcements shimmered out of the dreamscape behind them and these seemed fairly appropriate. Three other Red Wizards joined Araman, just as he had managed in reality to get Red Wizards to join his faction to carry out a coup at a Thayan Academy. The Red Woman was joined by three Thayan Golems, just as the young Red Wizard that Neeshka had slain back in Okku's barrow had been accompanied by that little flying Golem-thing.

Deciding the Golems would not be more dangerous for a short delay Blake turned his attention first to the Red Wizards. If they were given a chance to cast some defensive spells they might not be as vulnerable as if caught more unprepared. There was a truism of war that a good decision _now_ was often worth more than the best decision _later _would be. Hindsight might allow you to see a better idea, or given that and months to think some armchair General might do the same, but time was more critical. That was true here as well. _Firebrand_ might not always be the best spell, some things were fire immune, perhaps something else would be more effective, perhaps this was a waste of the power of the Weave. But the Red Wizards paused to think what their best spell was and so Blake finished casting first.

The ball of flame formed in front of him and then split into four smaller balls that streaked away and into the Red Wizards and Araman. To Blake's annoyance their robes did not catch fire but suddenly having fire burst against their chests and engulf them for a moment was enough to spoil the concentration of the three younger men. Araman was older and tougher and less impressed by the attack and managed to cast a _Greater Missile Storm_. Most of these struck Blake as he charged but a couple arced past him to strike Gann in the back.

Gann had turned to face the Golems and staggered forward a little under the missile impacts. One Golem tried to take advantage Gann being off-balance but Gann's reactions were fast enough for him to recover and whip his spear around to strike the sharp edge of the spearhead against one Golem Knee. These Golems looked like men made of clay and, although their substance flexed as they moved, as it was struck the knee cracked like a badly fired pot. A small section of the side of its leg fell away in fragments and it hop-shuffled back as the other two moved forward.

Blake attacked, his armour glowing slightly in spots to radiate away the energy it had absorbed from the magic missiles and his sword sweeping in for a stabbing cut at Araman's gut. The older man jumped back and Blake pulled his blow to shift its path and use the momentum to cut up and across one Red Wizard's upper chest. This was not deep enough a cut to reach the heart but his sword's edge cleanly sliced through the robes and grazed across the pectoral muscles. Flinching belatedly back away from the sword and recoiling from the pain the Red Wizard lost his balance and with an 'oof' of expelled breath sat down hard on his arse. Another Red Wizard was turning so Blake continued pivoting and slammed his shield into him, the blade like ridge on the front of Blake' shield crunching something in his chest and the impact driving him to the floor.

Gann was having more trouble as Golems not bothered by pain and were better at close combat than unprepared Wizards were. The one whose knee he had cracked was limping and slowed but Gann had to sidestep a punch from another. This left Blake's back vulnerable so Gann shoved the shaft of his spear into the Golem's armpit and, a hand either side as if it was the bar of some exercise weights, heaved upwards. Lifted and thrown off balance the Golem tottered sideways into the others. For a moment they were clumped together so seeing this chance and overcoming his reluctance again Gann beseeched the spirits. They responded and a _Burst of Glacial Wrath_ engulfed the group.

A Red Wizard staggered back as Blake's sword swept up and through his wrist. His hand fell to the floor with a thump as he grabbed at the fresh stump with his other hand and fought not to scream. Araman used the distraction of his minions being maimed to retreat and Blake had to close the distance on him again, giving the older man enough time to cast a _Fireball_. Unfortunately for him he'd underestimated the speed of Blake's approach. Even more unfortunate for him was that, by definition, a large enchanted shield did shield the person behind it. Blake felt some beard hairs singe as small tendrils of flame licked around the edges of his shield but most of the _Fireball_ was deflected to either side or back at Araman who found himself being burned worse by his own spell than his target was.

This dream chamber was not damp like the Skein had been but there had been enough moisture on the floor and in the air that Gann's _Burst of Glacial Wrath_ had linked the Thayan Golems together and to the floor with ice. This gift of the spirits had also made their clay brittle with cold and the cracking noises as they tried to free themselves seemed to be more than just the fairly weak ice links breaking. As their eyes met past her temporarily disabled servants the Red Woman sneered at Gann and then Lightning crackled out from her hands and into him.

Gann staggered back, a faint wisp of smoke rising from a scorch mark on his leather armour, but although his spear was not well weighted for throwing as he fell onto one knee he swept his arm around. He was off balance and falling so he could not put much power into it, it would have glanced off a metal breastplate, but against robes the spearhead sank in enough for the Red Woman to crumple around it.

Blake also took advantage of his enemy's lack of armour. There were no plates to aim for the joints between, no thicker sections of leather that would slow his blade as it cut through, and his sword was sharp enough and heavy enough that with his enhanced strength bone and flesh was not much hindrance to its edge. He would still prefer to not waste effort by cutting through more than he had to though so he brought his sword down in a forehand diagonal blow. Araman reflexively raised an arm to protect his face and neck. Against some this relatively light quick blow would have been more a feint to draw the arm up than an actual attack but here bones broke and flesh parted and the old Red Wizard's unarmoured arm bent where nature had not intended.

As Araman recoiled with his hand and lower arm dangling on the strands of skin and muscle that had not been severed Blake brought his sword back up along the path it had taken down and then around in a clockwise arc into Araman's waist. Again this was not a particularly heavy blow but the edge of Blake's sword easily sliced through cloth and the flesh beneath it at Araman's waist. Blake drew his sword straight back, cutting it in deeper as he did, and then flicked it back in a horizontal arc. This had a bit more weight behind it but was not neat since as Araman was beginning to fall the sword caught a bit of chin as it decapitated him rather than cleanly slicing through the neck.

Gann regained his feet. His muscles were numb where the electricity had passed down through him and into the floor but he moved with as much speed as he could towards the Red Woman. A glance behind him confirmed the Golems had nearly freed themselves so Gann grabbed the spear where it jutted out of the Red Woman and gave it a twist as much to free it as to worsen the wound. Then pulling it back he swept the butt of it around behind him. This was not a fast or powerful sweep but with how the Golem was slowed and brittle with cold it struck and there was another crunch as the iron bands met the Golem's thigh.

The Red Woman was still coughing up blood and so was still alive but Gann did not have time to finish her and she seemed out of the fight for now. Instead Gann pivoted, continuing the motion of his sweep, and stabbed out at the Golem's chest. The spearhead sank deep into the centre of the Golem's chest but as there was no heart within to rupture this blow was less effective. Its main effect was to trap Gann's spear for a moment and this was long enough for the Golem to grab at the spearshaft to try to keep it trapped with the grip of its hands as well as the clay of its chest.

Blake turned away from the headless Araman and towards the Red Wizards he had summoned to his aid. A twitch of annoyance passed over his face as he saw these were still here rather than having vanished with the summoner's death as actual summoned creatures would. What was good though was that two of them seemed neutralised. The one with the missing hand looked reluctant to release the grip he had on the stump with his other hand and the one Blake had injured the chest of with the blade-ridge of his shield seemed to be having trouble speaking and reciting spells.

The third Red Wizard however was able to focus past the pain from the shallow but bloody wound across his pectorals and was chanting. He completed his spell and cast _Evard's Black Tentacles_ at Blake. This was theoretically good tactics as if Blake was entangled by these thick rubbery tentacles, as they somehow sprang from the floor without disturbing the paving and began trying to wrap themselves around him, then the Red Wizards could stand back and cast more spells at him. But with the aid of his own magic Blake was fast and strong enough to avoid the tentacles getting a grip on him and their blows and paralysing effects glanced off his protective spells and armour.

Gann was still wrestling with the Golem and its grip on his spear. His eyes flickered down for a moment and then he tightened his grip and shoved sideways with as much force as he could. The leather of Gann's boot soles gripped on the relatively clean floor beneath them but the Golem's clay feet slid on the slight frosting of ice Gann had noticed it was standing on. The Golem toppled and its hands lost their grip on the spearshaft. As the spear came free it enlarged the hole in the Golem's chest and then as the Golem struck the floor more cracks spread out from that hole under the impact. Gann glanced at the other two Golems and shifted his grip on his spear to use it more like a Quarterstaff.

The Red Wizards had relaxed when the spell was successfully cast and the tentacles erupted around Blake. It took them a moment or two to realise that the spell was not stopping him and Blake took advantage of this. Even without this extra edge it was unlikely the Red Wizard with the cut chest would have been able to dodge but he howled as Blake's sword stabbed out at his knee to cut along the outside of it to cripple him. He hopped back, trying to keep his balance while not putting weight on that suddenly wounded leg, and Blake withdrew his sword, took a moment to settle his own stance, and stabbed out again into the Red Wizard's gut. As the Red Wizard fell Blake let this fall draw him off the blade and angled his sword slightly so that motion fatally widened the cut.

Ignoring the howl and then the thud behind him Gann padded forward towards the unwounded Golem. He feinted with one end and then the other of his spear to try to draw the Golem into a reaction but the Golem was not really intelligent enough to try to anticipate and react to feints. A dab forward with the spearhead and then Gann whipped the butt end of his spear up and around diagonally and into the Golem's chin. Iron bands crunched into the clay and the Golem's entire lower face disintegrated into fragments and powder with the cracks spreading up and across what was sculpted to look like eyes. This did seem to blind the Golem as it began groping around for Gann who had taken a quick step back. Gann set himself and then brought the butt of his spear back in a sweeping horizontal stab into the side of what was left of the Golem's head. As this shattered and the Golem became headless this proved enough damage and it fell, inactive.

The two surviving Red Wizards were backing away from Blake. One was fighting for breath through his cracked or broken ribs so he could speak and cast spells and the other was trying to summon the courage to let go of his stump and attempt to cast a spell with his single remaining hand. Blake smiled, his teeth making a brief flash of white in his beard and between the cheekguards of his open face helmet, as he decided that turnaround was fair play. His hands made the abbreviated spellcasting gestures that were more habit than necessity with his training and practice in casting in full armour with a shield on one arm. There was just enough time for the Red Wizards to wonder what he was doing before the writhing tentacles behind Blake were duplicated by another set bursting up all around them.

Without magic enhanced reflexes the two Red Wizards were unable to dodge these tentacles and found them wrapping themselves around their legs and snagging into the cloth of their robes. Suckers gripped onto the leather of their boots and the cloth of their trousers, paralysing magic began flowing into them, and the Red Wizards had neither the innate toughness nor the protective magic to resist. Their postures stiffened and they began to be held up more by the grip of the Tentacles than by their own sense of balance. Blake looked at them dispassionately and then, now they were unable to dodge and he could take the time for precision, stepped forward and cleanly decapitated them with one quick blow each.

Happy with his success against one Golem Gann wondered if he could repeat it but without having to smash an entire head. His spear was not as suited as Blake's sword for cutting rather than stabbing but it did have a good edge on the spearhead so Gann tried to slash this across the neck of the Golem with the hole in its chest. Showing surprising reflexes the Golem grabbed again and managed to catch the spearshaft. It brought its other hand up as well and getting a good grip began to wrestle with Gann for the spear. Even with the aid of his equipment and the spirits Gann was not as strong as the Golem but when he glanced down at the Golem's chest he looked less worried. Throwing his strength and weight to one side and then the other Gann allowed himself a very slight smile.

The Golem remained impassive as it resisted Gann's efforts but then there was a painful sounding cracking noise. The hole in the Golem's chest was large enough to have weakened it and the strain of wrestling was too much. Gann had seen the cracks spreading and widening as each shove tried to move the Golem's arms and the stress was transmitted across the Golem's chest between them or down through its torso and against where its legs were bracing it. Now both the Golem' arms came off, thankfully the grip of the hands relaxing as they did, and the Golem staggered back with the front of its chest crumbling like an undercut riverbank.

For a moment that looked like the end of it but as the Golem tried to keep its feet its head and neck and what was left of its shoulders began wobbling back and forth on what was left of its torso. The weight of these and the flexing was too much and after only a few sways the Golem's back snapped and its upper and lower halves parted company. There was a distinct crunch as the top of the Golem's head met the floor as if it was a swimmer diving into rather unyielding water.

While Gann was wrestling and destroying that Golem the final one with the wounded knee had started limping towards him to attack. Blake had turned from his executions and, seeing this, cast a _Melf's Acid Arrow_. Against opponents of this strength this was more an annoyance than a serious wound but a small patch of clay continued to bubble as the acid ate away at it. Blake called and waved his sword to keep the Golem's attention turned towards him. The Golem hesitated as its limited mind tried to decide between its original target and its most recent attacker as its priority. Finally it decided and took a couple of halting steps towards Blake.

Then Gann swept the butt of his spear into the back of the same knee he had wounded earlier. Cracks spread from that fresh hole to join it to the older one and as the Golem finished its step its lower leg came off. Blake smashed down with his sword at the falling Golem and sped its descent to the floor. There was a slight crunch from the arm the Golem trapped under its own body and then a louder crunch as Gann drove the butt of his spear into the back of the Golem's head. Blake looked down at the Golem and placed the fist of his sword hand onto the forearm of his shield arm as he took a half step forward. Then Blake put his weight and both arms into bringing the slightly pointed lower edge of his kite shaped shield down to into the small of the Golem's back.

This cracked the Golem almost in two and its feeble twitching efforts to move only widened the cracks. Gann and Blake nodded to each other and so as Gann struck the Golem a few more times in the head to finish it Blake moved across to where the Red Woman was still dying to offer her the same mercy. Her eyes feebly flickered open but there was nothing feeble about the glare she turned on Blake. She coughed and summoned some strength to spit some blood at his feet.

"Traitor…" the Red Woman hissed, "betrayer of my beloved's memories…"

That effort seemed to exhaust the last of her strength and she slumped a little as death claimed her, though her eyes remained open and staring and accusing. Blake frowned down at the corpse for a moment before turning away and back towards Gann. "How can I betray the memory of someone I never knew," wondered Blake aloud, "and who I have only barely heard of in stories and tales?"

"She said 'memories' not 'memory'," Gann pointed out, "and your curse _has_ come with such attached."

"Ah," breathed Blake, "and she expected that those would sway my judgement…"

"Have they not?" Gann asked in surprise.

Blake gave a slight smile. "They have, though when I realised _why_ I was feeling some of the things that I was… well, the sway reversed to resentment over having those feelings imposed on me."

"Be cautious my friend," warned Gann, "you have a right to resent having emotions that are not your own and to react contrary to those. But always doing the reverse of what those feelings want is being swayed by them almost as much."

"Good advice," nodded Blake. "I do remember the tale that the best way to lead a pig is to tie a string to its back leg and pull the opposite direction to the way you want it to go. But pigs are smarter than that and I should try to be smarter than them. I do not think these people would have supplied anything more of use but, perhaps, that was just what I told myself to justify not controlling my anger and to let myself venerate Hoar with retribution all the sooner."

"For now though," Gann replied, trusting Blake's assessment of swine, "it seems we have a portal and somewhere more to go."

The two of them climbed the short flight of stairs to where the portal had appeared and entered. The dreamscape shifted around them again and a version of the Chamber of Dreamer's once more took shape. There were still no hags but there were two figures standing immobile. "Looks like Faras did wake up when we solved his problem," Blake commented, "and no path but through their dreams."

"So it would appear," agreed Gann, "though as to the latter I am unsure why. Unless the Coven hope we will become as entrapped in those dreams as those people seem to have been."

Blake gave Gann a smile. "You can stop them shaping the Dreamscape against us," he nodded, "but they can still use what was already within." Gann gave a slight bow of acknowledgement. "Hmm, the fat guy next I think."

"What of the Illithid?"

"I do not want to know what he is dreaming of, the possibilities could be unpleasant, but, aye, it may be wiser to find out and prevent him learning anything of use. With luck though he will die while we are in this fellow's dream and save us having to do that."

"Or the delay might allow him to learn what he seeks," countered Gann. Then his concern faded. "But if he does wake then we have Old Father Bear and your lovely companion to deal with him in the waking world."

Gann focussed on the flow of the dream and how it gathered around the fat human to form the eddy in which he was trapped and contained. There was a shimmer in the air and the Chamber of Dreamers dissolved to be replaced by a shabby looking inn and a version of the fat fellow who was able to see and react to them. With a friendly smile he took a few steps towards them to greet them. "Ah, a newcomer! Welcome sir, come to pay Hells have you?"

"Perhaps," Blake replied, not committing himself, "what can you tell me about this place first though?"

"Didn't you read the sign on the door when you came in? This, sir, is The Lonely Wench. Ironic name, if you ask me, since no women are allowed in here."

This took Blake by surprise. "Why not? Hardly seems a good tavern without ladies."

"On that I agree," Gann added.

"What, sirs, are you new in town?" said the fat fellow with equal surprise. "Wenches aren't allowed in here in order to keep the hags out. Horrible witches and ugly as Avernus, but they can disguise themselves. That's how they got that farmer Brodey. Poor sot thought he was going home with a willing buxom wench… he's luckier than most though since he actually returned alive."

"That seems unlikely, if he truly had fallen into the clutches of a hag," Gann frowned dubiously. "How _did_ he suggest he had managed to survive?"

"Well, Brodey never talked much about it," grinned the fat fellow, a twinkle of sharing a good tale coming to his eyes. "He came back short one toe with a chunk of his thigh bitten off. All he said was 'Thank the gods my manhood is too small and I taste like compost!'"

"Well…" chuckled Blake, "at least he found the rare situation in which those became advantages. Anyway, you mentioned something about playing 'Hells'?"

"Yes sir. Hells!" the fat fellow replied enthusiastically. "It is an _entirely_ original game of my own creation I am proud to say. Hells is a game of deduction inspired by the Nine Hells of Baator: Avernus, Dis, Minauros, Phlegethos, Stygia, Malbolge, Maladomini, Cania, and Nessus. I will think four Hells and you, sir, will have nine guesses to determine what I have in mind. If you get one of the Hells correct and in the correct order then you have a Devil. If you get one correct but in the wrong place then you have a Demon."

Blake looked at the fat fellow for a few moments before he could be diplomatic. "This sounds at least vaguely similar to another game…"

"Impossible sir!" replied the fat fellow, managing to convey wounded pride. "I am a notorious gambler and have travelled Faerun far and wide. Hells is something new and innovative. There is nothing else like it, sir, Hells is unique!"

"Hmm," Blake said, with a conciliatory nod, "yes."

Blake gestured to Gann and they moved a few steps away while the fat fellow returned his attention to the table. "So, do we play his guessing game?" Gann asked after a moment. "What we do has to be focussed on him and that seems his only concern, so he might not be freed otherwise."

"Aye, if he was more concerned with the Hags I might think we had to leave this inn to go hunting. Solve the problem of them being unable to have women here without risking being eaten." Gann nodded so Blake continued. "If this is like the game I have played then it is not entirely a guessing game. You can guess or you can work methodically through the options to narrow them down, the latter of which I would be better at."

"And I am better at the reverse," smiled Gann, "since I could use the insight the spirits grant me to tell how he reacted to each guess. I shall leave it to you though and help only by creating some dream gold so you may concentrate on the game rather than any losses you may suffer."

"Thank you Gann," Blake replied, starting back towards the fat fellow. "Neeshka would not like me to waste the efforts of her happy looting."

"Ah, a newcomer! Welcome sir," said the fat fellow again. "Come to play Hells have you?"

"What?" Blake exclaimed. "A newcomer? We were just speaking… but yes, I have come to play Hells."

"Excellent sir," smiled the fat fellow happily. "I will explain the rules. Listen closely because I will not ever repeat myself."

"You _are_ repeating yourself and _have_ explained the rules," replied Blake, making Gann wonder if he had misjudged how much Blake was willing to go with the flow of a dream, "so let's just play."

"Yes sir," said the fat fellow, looking and sounding as if he was humouring Blake. "Before we begin, let's agree on the wager. To tell the truth sir I have been breaking even for the longest time so I cannot afford to make a large bet."

"In that case I shall make a medium one," Blake responded.

Blake was a little unimpressed with how small even a medium bet was but he reminded himself of how large that would have seemed only months ago, and that Neeshka still would not have approved of him losing that here rather than spending it on something for her. Blake made his first selections and began his slow methodical work. It was obvious to the fat fellow and to Gann as Blake ground the possible combinations down what progress he was making and so no surprise when Blake nodded and recited the correct four Hells in the correct order after his previous attempts had been so close in different ways.

"Four Devils," said the fat fellow, "erm… Hells! You won."

Blake turned to Gann. "You see what I mean about being methodical."

"Hmm? Sorry," Gann replied, "I was so fascinated I almost discovered if you can sleep and dream within a dream."

"I was having to concentrate, and looks like one victory is not enough," said Blake, then he turned back to the fat fellow. "Another game?"

"Ah, a newcomer!" the fat fellow said. "Welcome, sir…"

"What?" Blake interrupted.

"Remember, he _is_ locked in this dream and his actions," commented Gann.

"Dream, sir?" smiled the fat fellow. "You are quite the jester. Have you come to play Hells?"

"Aye, let's have another game."

"Another game sir?" said the fat fellow with polite puzzlement. "Come now, you may have played something with a similar name but we both know you've never played Hells before."

Blake opened his mouth slightly to protest but then just sighed slightly. "Very well, so let us play."

"Excellent sir. I will explain the rules," said the fat fellow, keeping to his internal script. "Listen closely, because I will not ever repeat myself."

_'Which, as you are repeating yourself by saying that, is self-contradictory,'_ Blake thought before saying, "Let us just play, I know the rules."

"I don't see how that is possible sir," the fat fellow said with some puzzlement. "You've never played Hells before."

"And it is new and innovative," replied Blake, bringing a slight frown to the fat fellow's face as he used words the other had before and would have again, "but let us still play."

"Yes… sir," the fat fellow said, visibly wondering how they could play when one person did not know how. "Before we begin let us agree on the wager. My losses are beginning to make me nervous, sir. I'll try a small wager."

"I would prefer a higher bet," complained Blake, "but agreed. A small wager it is."

To the fat fellow's shock Blake did prove he knew the rules when the fat fellow was sure he had invented a new game and had not told this man the rules of it. Again Blake worked through the possibilities to narrow them down to the right four Hells and then to what order these should be in. He did not revere Tymorra as much as his darling Neeshka did but she seemed to be blessing him with either good fortune or the skill required for the game.

"Four Devils… Hells! You won," said the fat fellow before sighing. "Ah, I am nearly broke. One more loss and I will have to return home in shame."

"Excellent," said Gann from behind Blake, relieved that there was an end in sight, "beat him again and this dream will be broken and we can continue on."

Blake nodded over his shoulder to Gann and then spoke to the fat fellow. "Shall we play again?"

"Ah, a newcomer! Welcome, sir…" started the fat fellow.

"I am here to play Hells," Blake interrupted, trying to shortcut this part, "and the repute of your game has spread far and wide so with its fame there is no need for you to explain the rules."

"It has?" asked the fat fellow in surprised joy. "I mean, of course it has. I will still explain the rules though as you have never actually played Hells before. Listen closely, because I will not ever repeat myself."

"No need, as I said," Blake smiled. "Let's just play."

"Yes sir. Before we begin let us agree on the wager," the fat fellow said. He twitched slightly as he had to judge the weight of his coin purse and some part of him realised that was different from last time, and therefore that there had been a last time. The dream swept him back into its flow though and he continued, "Ah, I am nearly broke. One more loss and I will have to return home in shame. Apologies, sir, but I can only afford a small wager."

"That will be fine," replied Blake graciously, "let's play."

For a third time Blake played and achieved a methodical victory. The fat fellow tried to maintain a cheerful expression but as Blake slowly approached the solution his smile dimmed until it almost vanished as Blake made the final and correct choices. "Four Devils… Hells! You won," admitted the fat fellow, before sighing and looking doleful. "Forget Hells, this loss has put me in the Abyss. At least I still have the clothes on my back, unless of course you'd like to wager for them."

"I think not," Gann replied. "If you were a wench and some stone lighter then perhaps… but…"

"Never mind that," the fat fellow frowned. "I'll be captured by a hag if I step out of this inn in my skivvies."

"Their hunger can overcome their fussiness," agreed Gann.

"Well, sir," said the fat fellow, ignoring Gann, "I suppose I've no need to wish you good fortune, for you have taken all of mine… Farewell."

Blake nodded as the fat fellow turned and walked away. Then he felt a twitch in his bags as if a mouse or rat had squirmed into them. "What the…" Blake commented, reaching into his bag and hoping if it was a rodent it would bite the metal of the gauntlet and not the leather.

Groping around for a moment Blake's expression of puzzlement deepened as he felt a hilt and then withdrew a dagger to stare at it. Gann glanced at the dagger and then at Blake's face and smiled slightly. "Interesting," Gann commented, "I take it from your reaction that was not there until just now."

"It was not," Blake confirmed as he examined it. "This seems very magical and almost…fluid? That's not quite the right word but…"

"It seems as if its reality is not fixed?" asked Gann helpfully. "As if, like a dream can, it could shift and change?"

Blake nodded and frowned with concentration. "I wonder," he said, focussing on the dagger that suddenly grew into a longsword. Gann raised his eyebrows as if he was going to comment on an analogy with a piece of anatomy, but then the longsword changed into a quarterstaff and then back to a dagger.

"Seems… useful, if it will persist outside this dreamscape that is."

"Not that useful," Blake replied, continuing to frown in concentration as the dagger changed to a battleaxe and back. "I have a good sword and this resists being changed into a sword of similar size and shape." He paused a moment and then nodded to himself. "So, perhaps, I should try something different… ah!"

Blake smiled slightly as the dagger changed to a longbow. He examined it and then placed it on the table long enough to loosen the straps on his shield and slide that off his arm to lean it against one table leg. Blake picked the longbow up again and looked at it some more and then nodded to himself in satisfaction when as he drew the bowstring back an arrow shimmered into existence against that and his hand on the bow.

"A longbow?" asked Gann, mildly puzzled by Blake's happiness. "I have rarely seen you use the bow you carry, so is that truly of more use than a spare dagger?"

"There are places where arcane power is blocked," Blake said, turning the longbow to examine the arrow, "or foes that can counter or resist magic, so there or against them a longbow would be a very good thing to have."

"But would _this_ longbow be a good thing to have?" Gann argued. "You say it is very magical and so it appears in its changing of form and that arrow appearing…"

"True," Blake nodded, carefully letting the bow return to not being partly drawn, which also caused the arrow to vanish. "Magic innate to items can be harder to block, they can remain enchanted where spells cannot be cast, but it is not impossible to block. This is a good bow but it does seem dependent on magic, whereas the bow I bought in Mulsantir depends on good wood and craftsmanship."

"It does sound like you will still be having to carry a second unenchanted bow and all the quivers of arrows to feed it."

"True enough," Blake replied, adding with a smile as he put the longbow back on the table and started to loosen the carrying straps on his shield, "which was why I didn't buy a bow with similar arrow-creating magic before. The bow I had, before the Red Wizards stole it, was a good one and Neeshka had given me a few lectures on how useful it was to have a variety of arrows."

"Lectures I am sure you happily listened to just for the joy of hearing her speak and watching her face," smiled Gann.

"It was good advice as well, but it did mean that by the time I could afford the other bow I had a lot of arrows, especially since I'd enough magic that it was becoming rare I needed to use a bow rather than a spell."

"And you do seem to have taken the advice to heart," nodded Gann, "though now you apply it to the variety of spells you prepare."

"These arrows _are_ a lot better than the other bows I've seen could create," Blake continued, slinging his shield onto his back, "so variety _might_ be less needed. And since the cost was boring you for a while rather than enriching a merchant I thank you for paying for this gift."

"A shame that I prefer a shortbow, or that 'thank you' might have prompted some hints that the one that paid should have the gift." Blake glanced at Gann to confirm his friend was teasing. "I am glad though that you gained more from this than simply opening the path onwards. Speaking of which…"

"Aye," replied Blake, his eyes following Gann's gaze to the portal that had appeared and picking the longbow back up, "onwards."

As both of them had expected as they entered the portal the dreamscape shifted to replace the Inn with the Chamber of Dreamers. It was no surprise either that this room was empty of Hags or of standing figures, the only object within it being another portal. Blake looked around the chamber as if looking for another route on other than the obvious one floating ahead of them but then he shrugged with a slight clank. "And again no people, just a single portal."

"So again we have a clear choice," Gann replied, looking on the bright side.

Blake glanced at Gann but did not quibble as he led the way into the portal. This version of the Chamber of Dreamers dissolved around them and they found themselves outside under a dead grey sky and standing on dead grey soil. A great wall filled the horizon ahead of them, its surface twisted and uneven with what looked like the shapes of people. The still air around them was only stirred by the crying of voices raised in rage or wailing in despair or pleading for mercy and even Gann's usual smile dimmed with the effect of these surroundings.

"Is this a dream?" asked Gann hesitantly. "It seems…"

"Blake… Marsh?" a hoarse distant voice interrupted. Somehow though the voice was faint it overrode the others and it was clear where it came from. Blake glared as he looked ahead of them and saw a figure embedded in what he was beginning to recognise.

"I know that voice…" mused Blake, "and I think this dream might be of the realm of the dead and that be the Wall of the Faithless."

"Then, if you know that man, then shall we speak to him and confirm that thought?"

"Maybe," Blake half smiled, "I suppose as tempting as it is to practice with my new bow, and confirm my skill with it and these arrows it creates are both good enough to make it stronger than my weaker spells, it might be better to speak with him first."

Gann raised his eyebrows. "You seem to bear a grudge."

"Aye," replied Blake simply, starting to walk.

They approached and Blake's fingers began to itch for the pressure of a bowstring against them or a sword hilt within them. The absence of the usual sneer was almost more hindrance to recognising the figure in the Wall than the greenish mould almost covering him or how the colour seemed to have been bleached from his hair and flesh. The angle of his limbs looked like they had been broken or dislocated as he was drawn into the Wall and that explained the pain on his face and in his undamaged eye, the other eye having swollen and turned white.

"Ah, seems you were as faithless to the Gods as you were to me Bishop," Blake said with satisfaction. "This fate makes killing you an even better memory." Blake paused and sighed. "Though I have to remind myself that this is but a dream and so this might be but a hope."

"Savour it all you wish," replied Bishop, managing to almost sound defiant. "I made a stupid mistake, threw in with the losing side. Gloat if you like. I _would_, if the tables were turned."

"Who is this one? You speak as if there is much history, and _much_ hatred between you."

"Have you assembled a new circus of capering beasts?" mocked Bishop, his head remaining fixed into the mould but his good eye turning to Gann. "Does the pretty Hagspawn sing for his supper, or does he dance as well?"

"Gann is a trusted friend," Blake calmly replied, before giving into the temptation to add, "more so than you _ever_ were."

"And I dance and sing quite well," smiled Gann, "I would add."

"More trusted than the man who opened the gates of your keep to a horde of undead?" chuckled Bishop, managing to force his smirk back to his face. "You should treasure that compliment, Hagspawn, it is clearly heartfelt."

"_Don't_ fool yourself Bishop," Blake said condescendingly. "You did me a _service_ with your treachery. I should thank you for drawing the undead into all trying to squeeze through a single relatively narrow gateway and the _Evard's Black Tentacles_ I cast there. Packing themselves in beneath the murder holes, stumbling over the remains of their destroyed comrades, unable to get out of the way of spells or blastglobes…"

Blake's recitation was interrupted as suddenly the Wall of the Faithless shook like an awakening Dragon. A few shocks were transmitted from it through the ground into Gann and Blake's feet but it was definitely the Wall shaking the ground rather than a groundquake shaking the Wall. Screams rippled up and down the Wall, intermingling and overlapping as those trapped within Wall found their limbs twisted further and the green mould surging out further over them. Some of those screams were cut off with choking as the mould flowed in over their faces and into their open screaming mouths to drown and suffocate them.

"Can you hear it? In the screams… underneath the screams?" Bishop asked desperately, fear replacing the smirk again. "The reason you're here… they all know."

"Then perhaps, Oghma willing, they will share that knowledge," replied Blake, "as personally satisfying as it is to see you in this Wall so far this dream has not been useful in learning more about this curse."

"No, listen…to the shrieks and the moans," said Bishop vaguely. "It's not in the sounds themselves, it's in the pattern, lurking in the echoes, hidden beneath their words. They're infected with _hope_… waiting for the Crusade to return."

"This is strange," Blake commented, turning to Gann. "He was unpleasant and petty but he'd have no patience for talk of patterns in screams. He'd have either said plainly what he meant or mocked us for not having figured it out."

"And, from our brief acquaintance," smiled Gann, "it seems to me that he'd have mocked you for not figuring it out whether he had figured it out himself or not."

"True, more fun for him to say he is not going to tell me than for him to admit ignorance. Any idea why this dream-creature would be so different?"

Before Gann could reply the screams around them faded, quietened, and turning back to Bishop they saw that he was staring off into the plain grey sky. Looking off into the distance rather than at them. It seemed almost as if the other trapped figures in the Wall of the Faithless were waiting, with more patience than Blake, for what Bishop's next words would be. These were not long coming.

"It ended here," Bishop breathed. "This Wall… it hungers, it drains everything away."

"Hungers," Blake repeated in surprise, "of course. That is the punishment for the Faithless, to be absorbed into this Wall. As I have faith that was never a personal concern but hungering and draining everything does sound familiar."

"Indeed, there may be a connection between the curse and this wall, rather than merely between the curse and Akachi. So this wall may be a 'personal concern' for you after all."

Again the Wall shuddered and this time Bishop was drawn back into it. To Blake's satisfaction there was a painful sounding crack from Bishop's twisted body. To Blake's annoyance although Bishop vomited a plume of green mould, and more of it crept up almost over his face, Bishop was not wholly subsumed to signal the end of the dream and the conversation with the traitor.

"He's seen you," gurgled Bishop through a mouthful of mould, "the God of the Dead, they're coming."

"Again, the God of the Dead," Gann commented, his eyes scanning for any approaching threat. "There is some game being played here, with ancient rules and no concern for those caught in the middle."

"They're coming," gurgled Bishop again.

There was a slight shimmering towards the edge of the cliff and two bat-winged figures began to appear, one much larger than the other. Blake turned and with one fluid motion drew his new bow and released the arrow that had magically appeared. A slight twitch of his hand towards his hip where a quiver of arrows would normally be hanging from the, now less useful, hook on his armour revealed Blake needed practice with this bow to overcome old instincts. But then he drew the bow again and sent another arrow on its way.

The first arrow arced off into the nothingness beyond the cliff, passing through the misty form with so little effect that Blake was not sure if it'd had any. The second arrow though thunked into the chest of the Pit Fiend that had appeared, its magic allowing it to pierce deep into the tough Infernal flesh as it discharged its positive energy and ruptured the cells with too much of the energy of life. Then the arrow vanished and Blake remembered something that was drummed into the Greycloaks during training. If an arrowhead was not barbed and so was less likely to work its way deeper into the flesh it was often better to leave the arrow plugging its own wound. These arrows denied an enemy that choice.

Roaring in anger and pain the Pit Fiend began to advance, the smaller Horned Devil that had appeared seeming happy to keep pace slightly behind it. Blake's new bow sang as he continued to rapidly draw and loose arrows to either simply wound the Pit Fiend or sometimes make it pause and sway. Each time the dizzying effect of the arrows managed to take effect the Pit Fiend swiftly shook it off but the Horned Devil still had to chop its stride to avoid overtaking it. Gann watched the Infernals' advance and then glanced back at Blake.

"I realise you might be having fun with your new toy," Gann commented, holding his spear defensively, "but you said you could inflict more harm with it than your _weaker_ spells?"

Blake paused in his rhythm of peppering the Pit Fiend with arrows and then nodded and smiled. With how much chance the larger Devil had of shrugging off most mages power his bow had been a surer bet than those spells. But even if those spells did fail at least they could fail while he had his sword in his hand. Releasing the arrow he had just drawn he laid his bow carefully on the dead grey ground and drew his sword. Looking at the size of their enemies as he stepped forward a little to join Gann he wondered if he would have been better off using the time instead to try to unsling his shield from his back and strap it onto his arm.

The Pit Fiend shook his head and wings and roared again as the last of the dizziness left him. Wiping one great clawed hand across his chest he looked at the blood and ichors on his fingers and at the wounds that had been inflicted on him and snarled. "You will pay for this _mortal_," the Pit Fiend threatened. "You will beg for death, we shall drag you down…"

As the Infernal ranted Blake calmly chanted and completed a spell of _Vitriolic Sphere_. A globule of thick green formed in front of him in response to his words and streaked out into the surprised Pit Fiend. The thinner acid splashed out over both Infernals, despite the Horned Devil's attempts to remain sheltered, while the thicker more jelly like acid clung to the Pit Fiend. Acid burned at their thick skin and making matters worse for the larger Infernal some entered the wounds on its chest to eat at the more delicate flesh within. Seeing this and the smoke of corrosion rising from the wounds Blake cursed slightly to himself before he chanted and cast his _Greater Missile Storm_. The projectiles of magic energy that arced away from him burnt more holes in the thick skin of their winged foes and had he cast the spells the other way around those holes could have admitted acid.

The impacts along with the extra pain that it was suffering from the acid staggered the Pit Fiend back a little and gave the Horned Devil an unenviable choice. So far it had managed to keep behind the other Infernal but now this would be impossible without being too obvious about it. It hesitated and then decided that whatever extra pain these mortals might inflict would pale by comparison with what the Pit Fiend would do to it when they returned to the Hells. Reluctantly the Horned Devil stepped out of the cover of the larger Infernal and began circling to one side and towards Gann, who smiled and raised his spear to honour the threat.

Blake and Gann glanced to each other and gave a slight nod before, with magic enhanced muscles and speed, Blake sprang forward. He trusted Gann to protect his flank and hoped to reach the Pit Fiend while it was still staggered. The trust worked better than the hope as the Pit Fiend set itself and swept one great clawed hand to try to tear Blake's head off. Meanwhile though Gann had met the attempt by the Horned Devil to spring at Blake and driven it back as his spear stabbed out and flicked into the holes the _Greater Missile Storm_ had burned in its natural leather armour. Blake ducked slightly and brought his sword up two-handed to point at the grey sky, letting the Pit Fiend's blow bring its hand onto this raised blade. A shock ran through Blake's wrists and elbows as he resisted the impact from driving his sword back against him and as fingertips were sheared from the Pit Fiend.

The Pit Fiend roared in pain from this and then as Blake whipped his sword around and at its thigh. Even two-handed this blow did not chop far into the tough flesh but Blake twisted and drew the blade back and managed to deepen it slightly. His lips tightened though as he took a half step back, raising his sword back up into a guard position, and he saw the lack of blood from the wound and that the leg was still supporting the Pit Fiend's weight with no trouble. Blake had hoped to cripple the leg or put the Pit Fiend in danger of bleeding out and it looked like this would be a lot harder than against those Frost Giants. To make matters worse there were the wings.

A giant could be circled to move around it to cut at the back of the knee or ankle, cut at the base of the spine before it could turn, or stab up at its kidneys as you passed. Many of the fighting techniques honed by Halflings learning to even the odds against the taller races worked when the opponents were scaled up. However the wings on this Pit Fiend blocked being able to get past it. And meant that instead of twisting one way, like a Giant, to keep facing him the Infernal might instead twist the other way to sweep its wing into him. Blake felt his reflexes were reasonably good but his foe having that choice still made things more difficult.

Taking another half-step back Blake kept the Pit Fiend in front of him so whether it was wing or arm, or even leg or teeth, the attacks would all be coming from one direction. Then he sprang again and swept his sword through a powerful horizontal arc that left him momentarily off balance and seemed too unsubtle a blow. To Blake's surprise though the Pit Fiend didn't react and shrink back or move forward in counter-attack. Either would have affected his blow as it was made too shallow to be effective or deep enough that the drag of blade through Infernal flesh could have slowed Blake dangerously. Instead it was just deep enough.

The muscles and skin of the Pit Fiend's abdomen parted and a bubble like swamp gas making its way up through mud appeared as the membrane holding its guts in bulged out through the slit. Surprised at the pain as it had been many centuries since it had been the one suffering rather than the one inflicting the torments the Pit Fiend bent slightly and grabbed at the wound to push and hold its innards in. Blake tilted his sword up a little and brought it back in a slightly upward curve now the Infernal's neck was more within reach. The tip of the blade cut across the front of the Pit Fiend's throat and there was a bubbly sort of roar from it as it felt the pain and as blood seeped between its veins and its windpipe. Blake took a moment to glance to see how Gann was doing.

Blood and ichor was leaking from the Horned Devil as it moved and as Gann stabbed and widened and deepened the holes Blake's spell had burned in its skin. None of these wounds were that serious but their combined effect was beginning to tell on Gann's foe. Blake hesitated and considered whether he could afford the time to attack the Horned Devil with sword or magic and further tip the balance in his friend's favour. Another _Greater Missile Storm_ would give Gann more holes to exploit or a quick stab or slice while Gann kept its attention. Blake took a step towards the duelling pair.

"Look out," Gann snapped.

Blake sidestepped and ducked almost instantly as he trusted Gann. A slight spray of Infernal blood rained down across him as the Pit Fiend swung its maimed hand and, thanks to Gann's warning, did nothing more than produce that spray from its severed fingertips. Blake turned back towards the towering Infernal he had foolishly assumed preoccupied with its throat and gut wounds and dabbed out with his sword at its knee. The blow had more speed than power but fortune favoured Blake and it carved into the side and rear of the knee where the skin was thinner to allow the leg to more easily bend.

The Pit Fiend had been concerned with holding its innards in so the blow had been a clumsy one that had already left it a little off balance. As flesh parted and the damage and the pain made its knee no longer support it the Pit Fiend staggered with the momentum of its swing. Despite a few desperate flaps of its wings it couldn't stop itself and it fell into the Horned Devil. The two winged figures were entangled for a moment and seeing a chance Gann stabbed forward with his spear, hard, and deep into the Pit Fiend's eye. Bone grated against metal as the force of Gann's thrust drove the spearhead into the socket and then through the brain and into the back of the Infernal's skull.

"I meant to do that," commented Blake, smiling to show he was joking.

"Of course," Gann replied, deadpan, yanking at the spearshaft without success. "And I meant to do this, trapping my spear was always my intent."

Blake nodded as the Pit Fiend's wing moved with more than death throes. Like a cat emerging from under a blanket, though hideous rather than cute, the Horned Devil managed to crawl out from under there and its eyes fixed on Gann and his problem. It began to raise itself up onto one knee and get a foot under itself to spring forward while the Hagspawn that had inflicted all this pain on it no longer had that spear to use. Then its predatory snarl shifted for a moment in realisation as it heard a slight clank and remembered there were two enemies. With both hands and his armour-clad weight Blake brought his sword down onto the back of the Horned Devil's neck. Despite the size of his sword, the magic enhancing it, and his strength this only cut partway through the neck and Blake had to wrench the blade free and hack down again to finish decapitating the Infernal and make sure it was dead. Blood gushed from the stump of the neck, soaking the dead grey soil and some spurting as far as the nearby Gann.

"Do you have to be quite so messy?" Gann asked, only half joking as he stepped away from the edge of the puddle of blood and glanced at the damp spots on his leather armour. "You will note that I didn't get any blood on you."

"True," admitted Blake, "and those stains might be harder to remove than rips in the armour would have been to mend."

"I do prefer to have not tested the good will of the spirits," Gann smiled, "by having to ask them to mend the rips in me as well."

They had learned from the problem with the Wyverns and Blake quickly wiped his sword over with the magically absorbent self-cleaning cloth that had more than made itself worth the price he'd paid for it. Then Blake slid his sword into its scabbard and drew his dagger to begin chipping away at the Pit Fiend's tough face to widen the eyesocket and help free the spear. Gann wobbled the spear about to work it free as Blake stabbed until finally with a squelch it slid out.

"It may be my instincts speaking falsely," suggested Gann, his confident tone at odds with the modest words as he wiped gore from his armour and his spear and himself, "but I think it may benefit us to examine the section of Wall where your 'friend' used to be."

Blake nodded as he polished at an armour plate. Whatever fluid of whichever Infernal it had been that had splashed there it had dissolved at the dirt so a small shiny clean spot appeared under the magic cloth. Blake noticed this and wondered whether to polish his armour at the next chance or leave it dulled and unreflective. He'd never be as sneaky as Neeshka, even without his armour, but no reason to risk a glint making him even more obvious. Placing this cloth away and deciding that was a question for later Blake started over towards where Bishop had been.

"Your instincts have often proved true, Gann…" Blake commented as he peered at the Wall.

"Only often?" smiled Gann, with mock hurt.

"And have proved true again," Blake concluded. The green mould that had coated Bishop and that he had vomited had closed over his face and head but like a man drowned in swamp mud one hand was still reaching out past the surface. Blake tilted his head to examine the hand from a slightly different angle and then began digging into the mould covering it and trying to prise the fingers open to free what they were clenched around, exclaiming as he did.

"Problem?" Gann asked as he heard the sub-vocal curse.

"This looks nice and soft and mossy," replied Blake, considering scraping the hand with his dagger, "but there are sharp barbs underneath. Feels like those are digging into my gauntlet leather."

"Better that than your flesh."

"True enough," Blake admitted, giving one final tug and freeing the object. He held it so Gann could see and for a moment they both considered it.

"Another mask fragment," mused Gann, wondering if it was the surroundings or the material that made it look so maggot grey and appear to absorb rather than reflect what light there was. "These are taking on a greater significance."

"Maybe," Blake replied, sounding unconvinced. "They are at least clues to something, and retrieving this does seem to have triggered a portal just as taking the other ended that Mosstone dream. What connection they have to anything else though…"

"Is something we can ask the Slumbering Coven," Gann suggested, before his face darkened and he added, "and after hearing my mother's story I _do_ have many questions to ask them."

"Remember the Red Wizards in the previous dream…"

"And your, belated, concern that you might have learned more from them?" Gann interrupted. "Don't worry, I intend to talk, to war with words before anything else, rather than follow your example, as _fine_ as it is of course."

Blake nodded and led the way to and through the portal. The world shifted around them again and reformed into the Chamber of Dreamers. To Blake's mild surprise as well as the Illithid standing to one side there were also Hags floating in their columns of light. It seemed they might have found the centre of this dream where the mind dreaming it were but then Blake frowned as he looked closer at the Hags.

"Do these seem… not quite real," Blake asked, turning quizzically to Gann, "if such a term has meaning here."

"These are truly the Slumbering Coven," replied Gann, "but… at one remove… if that makes sense?"

"It does," Blake nodded. "Before he was turned into a Shadow Reaver I first saw that necromancer when I saw him giving orders through an illusion. He could see and hear his subordinates, they could see and hear him, that was how he looked and those were his words, so he was as close to being there as he could be without actually being there."

"Well, like those people, we could speak to the Slumbering Coven through these dream forms," replied Gann, "and my skills are such to ensure these would remain truthful in what they show. But I think the Hags have enough advantage without being able to keep us at… minds length."

"I still do not want to know what that is dreaming of," Blake said, gesturing at the Illithid, "but as little as we have learned if that has learned even a fraction as much from its Dreamscape then it has learned too much."

"And at least it is still apparently trapped," commented Gann in reply, "though the more vigorously we demand answers from the Hags the more likely that dream would break and release it."

"Then we had best see to it," grumbled Blake, "even though it would only be released to Okku's teeth or Neeshka's blade it could be a needless distraction."

Gann gave a sympathetic smile at that tone and then concentrated his dreamwalking abilities on bringing their dream and that of the Mind Flayer in tune. What appeared to be a mine, though one strangely subdivided, took shape around them and standing there was the dreamform of the Illithid. For a second they looked at each other before the Illithid's face tentacles squirmed in concentration.

_'Did Ilsensine send you to rescue me,'_ the Illithid thought at them, _'or are you with the Githyanki?'_

"I am no friend of the Githyanki," Blake replied, bringing images of the fights he'd had with them to the front of his mind, "an enemy more like… but I will see you dead rather than rescued."

_'You will not see me cornered!'_ exclaimed the Illithid mentally. _'I will not be caught!'_

With that the Illithid turned and fled, its long robes concealing its legs so it almost seemed to glide. This movement was smooth rather than swift however and even without Blake's magic enhancing their speed it seemed doubtful that it would be able to outrun him and Gann. The many doorways and divisions of this dreamscape did suggest though that it might manage to sneak around. Fortunately it had made the suggestion that it needed to be cornered.

"You go left and parallel," Blake said, waving that direction and drawing his sword. "I'll head straight on after."

Gann nodded and bounded into motion to outflank the Illithid while Blake began clanking on directly. Hearing the pursuit the Illithid spared Blake a look over its shoulder and darted to its left. Blake glanced left and saw that Gann had been smart and had gone two rather than only one division that way. Neither of them could see the Illithid now but they could see if it crossed their line of sight and, keeping pace with each other, they could signal if it did. There were not that many of the subdivisions visible ahead so the Illithid would have to turn one way or other soon.

To Blake's surprise it headed back to where he could see it. So far he'd not seen any corridors heading to his right, each division had a solid wall that way, so it would have made more sense to him that the Illithid would continue left past where Gann was watching. As Gann caught his eye Blake gestured straight ahead to try to convey that was where the Illithid was. Gann looked a little puzzled and then nodded and started running faster, thinking it was a signal to charge. With a sigh Blake tried to also speed up despite his heavier armour.

The Illithid took a moment to realise the change in the pace of the footsteps pursuing it but when it did it glanced at Blake again and headed back to its left. It was only out of sight for a moment though as it recoiled back when Gann came into sight ahead of it. A human to one side of it, a Hagspawn to another, and a wall to a third left it only one doorway to plunge through. And then as its pursuers kept up with it there was again only one doorway. But then there was nothing but blank walls on two sides of it and armed members of the "slave races" on the other two.

_'I may be caught,'_ the Illithid hissed mentally, _'but you won't find me easy prey!'_

A wave of mental energy flowed out from it and into Blake who staggered slightly at the telekinetic shove. His boot soles slid slightly before they dug into the loose earth of the floor and although the Illithid's body language and, especially, its face were very different something about it conveyed triumph. Then Gann's spearhead sliced through the thin robe and into where most bipeds kept one of their kidneys. A physical rather than mental noise came from the Mind Flayer as breath was driven from it and then Blake struck. His sword cleanly sliced through the Illithid's thin neck and some of the dangling face-tentacles so the octopus like head bounced from the shoulders and off the nearby wall. Gann wrenched his spear back to let the body also fall and they looked down at it for a moment.

"Yes we did," Blake informed the corpse, despite it being past being able to hear the reply. Then he glanced around, "I am very glad you are here Gann."

"Of course you are, though I take it from your tone there is more to that comment than the obvious reason of the joy of my company."

"This dreamscape does not look informative for the Mind Flayer, does not seem like it would have held any answers for it. And that it contains Githyanki would make it more a nightmare than a dream for it."

"Ah, I think I see your thought," Gann nodded, "you suggest this dreamscape might be more the doing of the Slumbering Coven than this Illithid?"

"Tales do say Mind Flayers are conceited in their mental powers and intellect," replied Blake, wiping off and scabbarding his sword, "so it might have tried to match those against the Hags to gain more than they were willing to give."

"I am not so sure," Gann mused, "though I can see why you would think it perhaps a prison this is no more useless a dream than that deserted Inn. Unless you think the gambler might have learned from the losses you inflicted…?"

"Seems doubtful."

"But I agree," Gann finished, "this, and that, and the Wizard being in a simple house rather than a great library full of lawyers do all seem less helpful than what we have seen with the Theatre, and the Red Wizards, and that grotesque Wall. I do not think the Slumbering Coven have tried to hinder us though so I have not had to protect us from any such efforts."

Blake slowly nodded. "Could still be due to your presence, or that your focus and the power of your mother's eye are great enough to shrug their attempts aside like a bull barely noticing the bush it trampled. But let's search and see if we can find a portal before we decide if our progress has been hindered."

Gann smiled and together they began methodically working their way through the grid of squares of divisions of this strange mine. To their relief in one corner there were some stairs and dimly glowing at the top of them was another swirling portal disk. Blake paused and sighed again. "Hopefully this is back to the hags rather than another diversion."

"Unfortunately there is only one way to find out."

There was no arguing with that and these dreams had seemed consistent in there only ever being the one portal onwards so with some foreboding Blake stepped through the portal and back into a dream of the Chamber of Dreamers. The Hags were still there but somehow seemed more solid and all around them the air was filled with whispers. These seemed random at first but slowly there seemed to be a pattern emerging, as if the rise and fall of the whispers were waves on the sea but overlaying that pattern was the greater one of the tides. Blake squirmed slightly and cursed under his breath.

"It's like fleas in my underwear," Blake muttered, "except crawling on my brain, under my helmet, under my skull."

"I think you need to do your laundry with more care," commented Gann, "if you are that familiar with the sensation of fleas. But here… allow me."

Gann concentrated and to Blake's relief the prickling eased. "My thanks," Blake said before turning his attention back to the Hags. "These seem more real and the whispers are either focussing on us, so we have their attention, or I am getting better at hearing the flow of them."

"Perhaps both," replied Gann, "though more the former I think. Which is perhaps not good if we have too much of their attention now they no longer have the distraction of the other dreams. An ancient Hag, with all the cunning that suggests, is a formidable foe in conversation and with this Coven's link we may be trying to match wits with all of them at once rather than as individuals."

"You saying we should not have broken those dreams?" Blake asked, a little annoyed that Gann was bringing this up now, when it was too late as it had already been done.

"There seemed no other way to continue on," Gann pointed out, "and leaving the humans to die, or the Illithid to live, would not have sat well with either of us. I am simply warning you that we must be cautious when, and if, the Slumbering Coven is willing to…"

_'SPEAK', _commanded a voice as the whispers merged into one for that moment.

Gann and Blake glanced at each other. They had both heard singing or chanting where many voices combined but even the best trained choir were still separate and there was still the very slight variation in their timing. That this was so much a single voice made seamlessly of the different whispers bore out Gann's fear that this might be closer to a single mind than a gathering. Gann nodded slightly to Blake and took a breath.

"You are the Slumbering Coven," Gann began, unable to think of a less obvious opening statement, "the ones who have slept beneath Rashemen."

_'Yes,' _replied the united voice, reducing its intensity to a more conversational level.

"The slayers of my father, the warden of my mother," Gann continued, anger entering his voice, "and the ones who punished her never to sleep, never to dream."

_'Yes,' _the Slumbering Coven said, with no hint of apology.

Gann paused to see if they would explain or attempt to justify their actions. They remained silent so he went on. "Why? She did not attack you, she did n…"

_'SHE BROKE OUR _LAW_, SPAWN,'_ interrupted the Hags, their individual voices almost rising above a whisper in the outburst before returning to a less overpowering volume. _'The one you travel with - he is the product of such broken laws, as are you. Transgressions must be punished, or they are repeated.'_

"I agree," replied Gann, "and that is why we are here to punish you."

"Wha…" Blake said before cutting off his protest. They had come to this city for answers on the curse, that they had also discovered the fate of Gann's parents had not changed the original need. Before he could decide whether to take over the conversation though the Slumbering Coven's whispers resolved again into a reply.

_'No,' _said the Slumbering Coven with confidence, _'not unless you want this place to unravel around you, to see all dreams, all the chambers of this city flooded and gone. To do so would kill you as well, and much farther do we think you have to travel.'_

"You… should still be held accountable for what you have done…" Blake said, intending to continue by saying 'but we need answers…". Before he could continue though Gann was speaking again.

"My father, what happened to him?"

_'Dead and gone, by our law,' _came the Coven's satisfied reply. _'As your mother gave in to her appetites so was she forced to devour her own mate… in the manner of all Hags, piece by piece, leaving just enough alive to scream.'_

"By _your_ law you say," hissed Gann. "Then all I wish is that the _same_ justice be brought upon you and that you feel its selfsame mercy."

_'More powerful than you have threatened us, spawn,' _retorted the Slumbering Coven, contempt for Gann's threat oozing from every mental word. _'You though, spirit-eater, you have questions as well as threats. Ask them.'_

"Those dreams you showed me," Blake said, not wasting politeness, "why? And what did they mean?"

_'We? _We_ showed you nothing,' _corrected the Hags, _'you showed us and we drank deep of them. Such was the price of your passage and of the words we speak to you now. They came from the deepest places of your mind, where dreams mingle with hidden and forgotten things.'_

"It seems more likely they came from the curse rather than _my_ mind," Blake contradicted, before sighing. "No matter, that is not the question." He paused and thought and continued. "Two women came before you, not long ago, and you gave them advice. Something to do with me or the curse I now bear."

_'Yes,' _admitted the Slumbering Coven. _'The White Twin and the Red. Lienna and Nefris.'_

Blake nodded at the confirmation of what he had learned and of the similarity of the women. "What advice did you give?" Blake asked, frowning as a second question occurred. "Did they curse me with this hunger on _your_ orders circle of Hags?"

There almost seemed a mental chuckle before the Slumbering Coven's whispers merged again. '_They sought to end your affliction… your hunger,'_ the Hag voice claimed _'to _spare_ you from this suffering.'_

"That seems… _unlikely_," Blake said with some understatement. "Were it not for them I would still be on the Sword Coast and this curse would still be imprisoned in the barrow rather than trying to break free from inside me. Or are you confusing me with my curse like so many have?"

The prickling around Blake's mind eased even further than it had from Gann's aid as the whispers faded back towards becoming inaudible. They moved out of their joint rhythm like soldiers breaking step and began to echo back and forth in debate rather than in unison. It seemed they were agreed on their response to Gann's threats but less agreed on how to reply to Blake's questions. Then suddenly the pattern returned and the unified voice spoke again.

_'We are creatures of dreams, not of words,'_ sneered the Slumbering Coven. _'Telling is cumbersome, we will _show _you what you wish to know.'_

"Proceed," growled Blake, "but no tricks."

Two women appeared and Blake's hand twitched towards his sword before he realised this was not reality or even a dream to take part in. This was a memory being displayed. Blake hoped that Gann would be able to detect any falseness in what was being shown and that this would be less ambiguous than the memories from the curse that he and Gann had seen in dreams. The two women were very similar, did appear to be identical twins, and appear to be almost identical to the versions of the Red Woman they had seen.

There was something strange going on though. Mothers and daughters could appear very similar and for most of the time between the young Red Wizard waking him and Neeshka killing her Blake had felt on the edge of passing out so it was hard to remember exactly what the young Red Wizard had looked like. So the feeling there was too much resemblance there was likely a mistake. What seemed less likely was that after centuries that two women and the daughter of one would all be so close to the appearance of the curse-memories of their distant ancestor. Though as one began to speak Blake decided this was a puzzle for another time.

"See us, hags of the Coven," said what Blake assumed to be Nefris from her Red Wizard robes, "and know us for what we are."

"We beseech your wisdom," added the other, clad in white and apparently Lienna, "and bear gifts of dreams to trade… dreams of a sort even you have never seen."

_'We have heard tales of you in the dreams of the living,' _replied the Slumbering Coven in this memory-dream, _'and reflected in the dying minds of those who perished in our sanctum. Your dreams are a treasure, unique in our hoard… like worlds seen through different facets of the same ancient stone. Your question resounds across the infinity of your dreams… but in this place, you must speak it aloud. Speak.'_

"We… we would know how to end the affliction," said Lienna nervously, "the curse that the Rashemi call the 'spirit-eater'. We have searched so long, sisters of the Coven, we…"

"Tell us how to end the hunger," Nefris interrupted, her confident demand contrasting with Lienna's request where her appearance had not. "How can the eater of souls be granted peace?"

There was quiet in the dream for a long moment as the two women waited for a reply and the whispering of the Slumbering Coven paused. To Blake they seemed uncertain but also willing to think hard and make whatever suggestion might earn them the dreams they considered such a treasure. The pause also let Blake think and wonder at why the dreams were so unique when identical twins were not that rare. Another puzzle perhaps.

_'That affliction is a punishment, meted out by one who once reigned as God of the Dead,' _the Slumbering Coven said, saying what they knew before admitting their ignorance of a direct answer. _'He alone knows its beginnings, and he alone might bring about its end.'_

"You speak of Myrkul," Lienna exclaimed. "But… but, he is dead."

"We seek an answer, not a riddle," added Nefris in disgust. "That God of the Dead has passed beyond thought or dream. He has been slain long ago and his throne usurped. His knowledge is lost."

_'Not lost,' _corrected the Slumbering Coven. _'__Myrkul is a corpse, true, but his thoughts and dreams remain, marooned now inside the rotting hulk of his mind. He dreams endlessly of old enemies come to grief and ancient slights avenged. As long as he is remembered and feared by mortals, even if they are pitiful and few, his dreaming will persist and his mind shall endure.'_

"Then we must speak… to a dead god?" said Lienna, somewhat incredulous of the idea.

"It _can_ be done," Nefris told her "twin" with more confidence. "That is all we would know, sisters of the Coven, thank you…"

With that the dream-memory within the dreamscape faded as the women departed. Blake turned slightly to Gann and they saw the questions in each other's eyes. Much had been said and seen in these dreams and it would take some sitting and thinking and sleeping to sort their thoughts. Gann nodded to Blake as he realised that they had confirmed one thing clearly.

"Then this curse is a result of Myrkul, as you deduced," Gann commented before adding. "These gods of your people seem careless in their punishments."

_'Your people? Those Gods watch you as well Gann-of-Dreams,' _interjected the voice of the Slumbering Coven. _'All their laws and all their punishments will fall on you as well. And if you truly do not believe in them then one of their harshest laws shall be inflicted upon you… to lie in the Wall of the Faithless you saw until you dissolve as a fading dream. So keep your defiance, if you must, but it will not last when death comes for you dream-thing.'_

Gann opened his mouth to argue back but Blake spoke first. "Your answer only gives fresh questions, if they could speak to Myrkul then tell me how."

_'The Red Twin knew… or thought she did. We saw that much in her dreams. But she returned to Thay. To her Academy… a horror of dreamless voids and fractured souls.'_

"Then my answers are in a Thayan Academy?" Blake groaned. "One that recently was overrun by a coup that might have been part of a centuries old conflict?"

_'Yes,' _said the Slumbering Coven, sounding pleased at Blake's displeasure, _'and so you will leave the sooner we shall also tell you this. The White Twin kept portals in her secret room and if you beg passage of her Keeper-of-Doors then it will open the way. Beyond that portal lies the Academy and either your death or your answers. But we care not which you find or what you do spirit-eater. We have spoken enough and you have troubled our dream too long.'_

"And your dreams have troubled this world too long. You have been a malevolence and that and your dreaming will end _now_ in your death."

"Yesss," hissed Gann, seeming almost feral rather than urbane. "Bring their dreaming to an _end_, show them the pain of the waking world."

_'Wizard, you seek knowledge and learning and if you end us then all our dream contains is lost,' _countered the voice of the Coven. _'How much magic could you learn and how well could you learn to rule your keep from the knowledge of wizards and kings we preserve? That knowledge, the dreams of a thousand thousand souls, their triumphs and mistakes to learn from, the hopes and loves of men and women and beasts, can be found nowhere else. They are centuries dead and forgotten by all save us and our unending dream. Such a trove as has never been assembled, here or anywhere across the planes… this you would destroy for your own selfish whim.'_

Blake faltered. Gann's father was long dead and Gann's mother long since driven insane. Destroying the Slumbering Coven would do them no good and the loss of this knowledge could do others great harm. That this had been gathered by evil means tainted the Hags rather than what they had gathered and, in the cold calculation of advantage, the sacrifice of a few for a greater good could be justified. Blake had been willing to fight to the last man at Crossroad Keep. To sacrifice himself and his friends and his Greycloaks to buy time for Neverwinter and reinforcements from the Lords' Alliance.

There was also a rumour that Oghma had managed to ensure there was a special place in the Hells for those that burned libraries and Blake did not wish to be ranked with those. So much knowledge had been lost. So often people had to rediscover ancient knowledge and artefacts because those were so much greater than anything modern people could do. If these Hags could prevent future generations from having to search out ruins of Rashemen or Neverwinter in the same way as ruins of Netheril or Illefarn were sought out now…

But then Blake glanced at Gann and realised that he owed more to his friend, here and now, than to people not yet born. "It is _far_ from a whim and _far_ from an easy choice," Blake reluctantly said, wondering how often and how much knowledge had been lost to this sort of decision. "But whether you are feeling Tyr's justice or Hoar's revenge you must feel death for the sake of Gann's parents and all who have died and rotted around your sleeping feet."

"So be it!" Gann cheered, not sharing Blake's reluctance. "My spirits are ready to fight with us… to their second deaths if need be."

_'You have _not_ the power, nor the will,' _gibed the Slumbering Coven, gathering their strength to fight now their argument had failed against Blake's soft-heart if not against his logic. _'_Stupid _arrogant thing… how many hundreds have tried to usurp our place, but we took their power and absorbed their dreams.'_

"This one does not stand alone, but with me," Gann calmly and confidently replied. "I am no novice to the unravelling of dreams and ambitions of others, together you will not find us easy to resist."


	14. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Blake was not as sure as Gann about who was standing with whom and neither was he as sure about destroying this ancient shared dream. As they probed the dreamscape, reaching out to find the foundations on which it was built and the keystones that kept it from collapsing, the Hags seized on those doubts. Visions of ancient wisdom floated almost within Blake's reach. The chance to learn from the dreams of the wise and how they succeeded or from the nightmares of the unwise and how they failed. To learn magic that had been lost or how to prevent the rediscovery of magic that should remain lost. With an effort Blake drove those visions from his mind by summoning memories of the madness of Gann's mother and trying to imagine the slow dismembering of Gann's father.

As Gann began to chant Blake focussed on his friend's words and though they were in no language he understood the act of concentration seemed enough to let Gann guide both their efforts. Together their minds skimmed the dreamscape and felt out its shape. Feeling how thought and memory had been woven into a vast web that the Hags could crawl across and trap and weave more fragments of dream into. Layer upon layer of dream had been added but beneath it all were the ancient links that had let these Hags become a Coven of Nine rather than Three and let them join their power in eternal sleep.

The Hags were right that neither Gann nor Blake nor even them both had the power to stand against them. However they did not need to stand against _them_ when Gann's insight let him find those connections that had been made without the strength of the group-mind as those were what had allowed the group-mind to be formed. Connections that had been formed by just their individual minds reaching out to each other and without the benefit of all the knowledge they'd gained in their long slumber. The Hags screamed in agony as Gann guided the attacks to tear at these weakest but most vital strands of their dream and as around them the dreamscape began to dissolve.

Those screams echoing in his skull made it hard for Blake to realise first that he was awake and then that his sweetheart Neeshka was speaking. "…ing up, yes, he's waking up," she was saying, her concerned face close to his as she cradled his chin in her hands to peer into his eyes. She glanced away, "so is Gann… _oh Hells!_ So are the Hags!"

"Whur…" Blake began to say, not sure even himself if that would become 'what's happening?' or 'watch out'. Whichever he intended the words were cut off as Neeshka took advantage of their proximity to press a quick passionate kiss onto his mouth. This drove the last remnants of sleep from his mind and then as she pulled back and released his chin she suddenly yanked his chain hood up and plonked his helmet on his head. "Oomph," Blake protested, a little dazed at the sudden shifts from dreaming to kissing to being helmeted.

"More kissing later," Neeshka grinned, her slender deft fingers making quick work of the buckles and straps to secure Blake's helmet, "motivation to win this fight."

"A… a… fine motivation, I am sure," commented Gann, showing that the dream daze was as hard to shake without being kissed as it was with that 'aid'. "Though I thought your kiss would be to awaken him."

"I feel awake for it," Blake replied, looking at how the columns of light around the Hags were dissolving and lowering them to the floor.

"And I think I feel awake enough without you kissing me," smiled Gann, "though was kind of your lady to offer your services."

Rather than reply Blake just leaned to his left and slid his arm under the loose straps of his shield that was lying there ready. With an effort, and a helpful grab and yank from Neeshka, he rose to his feet and began tightening the straps to hold it firm. Neeshka looked a little worried as Blake swayed slightly. Her rapier hissed into her hand as she moved to place herself between her harbour-boy and the Hags. He needed protecting from them more than he needed her to stay within range to catch him if he wobbled too much and fell. Blake noticed this, that Gann was subtly leaning on his spear, and that Okku's entire spirit-form was one mass of tension ready to be released.

"Okku!" Blake called. "Rend and tear as many Hags as you want!"

"With pleasure, little one," growled the bear-god, springing with a ferocity that was almost as fearsome to have on your side as it was to attempt to fight.

Neeshka stepped a little to the side to be well clear of Okku's path and gave Blake a quick glance. Both to reassure herself how he was and to decide if he was simply letting Okku do what he was eager to do or if he was being over-protective of his sexy Tiefling again. Blake smiled back as he saw Neeshka looking at him and then began to chant an invocation. The Fat Fellow from the one dream and the Idiot Wizard from the other were huddling out of harm's way in a corner and the Illithid was, satisfyingly, a corpse lying where it had stood so it was only Okku he had to avoid hitting. It was a little disorientating whether or not spells cast in the dreamscape had actually been cast but Blake focussed through this and the fireball of a _Firebrand_ formed, split, and arced in its separate 'brands' away from him.

Okku's jaws closed with a satisfying crunch on a Hag and he began to chew and worry at her as he shook his great head and his teeth sank deeper into the unexpectedly frail flesh. Then one fireball dipped and struck this Hag, almost surprising Okku into dropping her. "Careful little-one," he grumbled through the mouthful of Hag, "unlike you I do not need my meat cooked."

"Apologies," Blake said with a frown, seeing this and the effect of the other elements of his spell. He had not expected the Hags to dodge the magic but he'd not thought to stagger them that much or that, even with the lingering daze of sleep, Okku would have got such a good grip on one.

Blake drew his sword and advanced as Okku spat out the Hag, throwing her with one flex of his thick neck into her sisters who were slapping at the flames burning at their flesh or clothes, or who were simply screaming in pain if not on fire. The Coven's sisterhood did not extend to trying to catch a wounded sister but despite their efforts to dodge she still struck some of them. Then Okku sprang again and into the midst of the Coven, whirling and roaring and bowling them aside and heedless of the danger of their counter-attacks.

Gann joined Blake and Neeshka in climbing the broad short flight of stairs, taking his position on Blake's left to strike where Blake's shield was while Neeshka protected Blake's right where his shield was not. A Hag slid across the stone platform and almost into their feet as one of Okku's great paws struck her. Smoothly Blake twisted his arm around and stabbed his sword down into her chest before she could rise. There was a crunch of bone and the Hag convulsed as the blade pierced her heart and the magic on it discharged into her. Pulling his sword back and looking at the carnage Okku was inflicting Blake's frown deepened.

"I…I don't," Blake began to say.

"Consider this," interrupted Gann, thrusting forward with his spear as a Hag stumbled back from Okku and towards them. She dodged the bear-god's attack but the spearhead cut deep into her lower back and as it severed her spine and her legs no longer worked she fell. Gann pulled his spear back and then bent that motion into sweeping its butt through a vertical underarm arc and into the Hag's skull. "What have these hags been doing?"

"Preying on the dreams of Rash…" replied Blake, glancing at the fallen Hag and then cutting off his words as he cut out with his sword at another member of the Coven. Okku's blow landed a moment sooner though and moved the Hag so Blake's sword only glanced her. Of course it moved the Hag at the cost of her having those razor-sharp dagger-sized claws tear a great chunk from her flesh. "They have been asleep floating in columns of light," Blake continued in realisation, "while your mother…"

"Yes," Gann interrupted again, his lips tightening, "my mother. My mother they drove mad was hunting in the real world." With an effort Gann tried to regain some of his normal lightness of tone. "Which I must admit that, as unfortunate as it was for her prey, did seem to have been excellent exercise to keep her fast and strong."

Not fooled by Gann's effort but willing to accept that he did not want to talk or think about it Blake nodded and looked for a target. There were not many choices as even without the distraction of the spell of _Firebrand_ it seemed Okku was far faster than these Hags with their atrophied muscles. It also seemed that as many Hags as the bear-god wanted to rend and tear was as many Hags as were available. Okku snapped forward and his great jaws closed on one Hag's face, nearly biting off the entire head as they did. Spitting out his gruesome mouthful Okku looked for fresh prey.

There was not really much the others could do to help Okku. Blake considered telling Gann and Neeshka to cover the other flights of stairs but before the words could leave his mouth he saw a Hag attempt to flee and the bear-god fell her with one swipe. All the Coven were either dead or grievously wounded, deep claw and tooth marks across most of them. The one Gann had killed looked neat by comparison despite the smashed in side of her skull distorting her face. Blake looked at them and at the happy Okku who paused in satisfaction as he saw no more standing Hags to knock down.

"I… mistrust these corpses," Blake finally said, "they were creatures of trickery and that Bheur was tough enough to be alive when I thought her dead."

"Simple to solve harbour-boy," said Neeshka, one corner of her mouth twitching in a sad smile that what seemed so obvious to her was not to her harbour-boy.

Deftly Neeshka sliced her previously clean rapier across the neck of one of the fallen and Blake nodded and began to follow suit. His larger sword went closer to decapitating his chosen Hags rather than simply cutting their throats. It did not take long when Gann also joined them in running the razor edge of his spearhead across throats or driving it into hearts or brains to work through the entire Coven to make sure they were dead. Okku had watched this all in amusement as he had more faith in his kills and that if these were not already dead they soon would have been. He could have taken offence at his two-legged companions having less faith but decided it was just another example of them being kind and thus granting the Hags a quicker rather than more lingering death.

"Justice for my parents," sighed Gann, slumping as the reaction to the events set in, "and no longer shall they haunt the dreaming world. It is done."

"It is _well_ done," Okku corrected. "Now shall we leave this depressing place?"

"Aye," nodded Blake, "we found some clues and some answers in the dreams but nothing more for us here."

"Nothing more for anyone," Neeshka grinned, amused by something, "and I think only one way out of here? The way we'd have come in if we had queued?"

Blake looked puzzled, he liked it when his sweetheart was smiling but preferred it when he knew why. Sometimes it was something he'd not intended to be amusing that made her grin or giggle. "Yes…" he said slowly, "there does not seem a way out through the Skein, especially not with how it was collapsing."

"Just checking harbour-boy," Neeshka said, grinning wider as for once she was the one pointing out the implications. "After all I don't think the people in the queue are going to be too happy that we just killed the Hags they were waiting to see."

"I find their happiness, or unhappiness, a matter of supreme indifference to me," commented Gann.

"If those in the queue offer violence we will return it," Blake nodded, "if the guards try to avenge the Coven we will slay them, but we _are_ leaving. Whether over their corpses or not."

"They _will_ not bar the passage of a god-of-bears, or his allies," rumbled Okku, "or not for long."

As Neeshka recovered her traps from first the way to the Skein and then the way out, and Okku waited impatiently for her to finish so he could fling the stacked corpses aside to leave, Blake looked around for the two humans. They seemed to still be in shock. Being woken to be greeted by a bear-god rather than a Hagspawn guard had been surprise enough. To find the two strangers they had met in their dreams were alive and present had added to this. Then witnessing the death in reality of the infamous Slumbering Coven had finished the job.

They had been arguing in low voices in a corner but fell silent as Blake began to approach them. _'Dead men tell no tales, without a cleric to interpret'_ was an adage they had heard and even without the lurking mountainous presence of the bear-god and with his armour and sword still being relatively clean he was still quite imposing after what they had seen. To their relief Blake smiled rather than struck at them.

"Ah, Faras," Blake began, continuing when the Wizard nervously nodded, "hopefully dealing with Enzibur in the dreamscape was enough, but if you do have to deal with him in the waking world then I hope you remember the solution from the dream?"

"I…er… I do."

"And you," Blake added, turning slightly towards the fat fellow. "I don't think I heard your name with the game playing, and I'm not sure what purpose that dream had, but hopefully you'll remember that however proud you are of a game you 'invented' that doesn't mean someone else cannot play it well?"

"Of course sir," came the nervous reply, "and I admit the game does have similarities to others. So thank you for the lesson."

Blake looked at them for a moment, and at the fear in their eyes, before shrugging slightly in puzzlement. Glancing at Neeshka's progress, and taking a moment to admire her as she worked, Blake then looked back at the room they had entered through. "After avenging Gann's parents myself and my friends may be in for some fighting," said Blake, returning his gaze to the pair and worrying them that he might ask for help in this. "I'd suggest you wait in that room over there," he continued to their relief, "the stairs down lead to a place called the Skein, which does not seem an exit…"

"Yes sir, we overheard" Faras admitted before asking. "Did you say Gann? As in Gannayev?"

"Ah, you have heard of me?" oozed Gann, attracted by the idea and joining the conversation. "Good things I hope?"

"You, er, well, er…"

Gann's smile faltered a little as the Wizard searched for words rather than having ready compliments. Surely it was not that difficult to think of something flattering to say when speaking of him and all his enviable attributes? He was the nightmare of fathers only because he was the dream of their daughters and could show them such pleasures as even dreams could not otherwise bring. With the joy he had given so many, young and middle-aged, demure maiden and lusty widow, chaste and otherwise, as rake and raconteur there were surely tales of wonder about his exploits?

"Good things of course, sir," interrupted the fat fellow, taking pity on Faras. "Many good things."

"Yes, yes," Faras added. "Many many good things."

With a frown Gann considered asking for specifics and considered whether he really wanted to know what precisely these people had heard. He felt a moment of self-doubt as he remembered what his mother had said and how she had seemed as unimpressed as the Witches were by his exploits. It was only a moment though and as the frown seemed to be making this pair even more nervous Gann decided they were too pathetic for him to care what their reply would be. To their relief he turned and walked away.

"Give us several minutes to make our way out before you follow," Blake suggested.

"We, we will sir," replied the fat fellow nervously, Faras hastily nodding in agreement.

After another moment of looking at them Blake decided to leave them be as Okku had begun to fling corpses an impressive distance across the room. Neeshka gave Blake a brilliant grin as her harbour-boy rejoined her and Blake smiled back happily before they turned their attention to Okku's progress. Gann was paying less attention; instead he was gazing at where the Slumbering Coven lay. His expression was that of a man who had found the need for revenge and then found that revenge all in the space of a few hours and was wearied by it. However as the last corpse thudded to and slid across the floor Gann straightened and restored his posture of confidence and strength.

"Ready little-one?" Okku rumbled.

Blake nodded. "Neeshka?"

Neeshka winked and then, as quickly as most could _with_ the key, deftly unlocked the door and stepped back as she triggered the opening magic. Okku as was his nature and preference charged through and at the clump of four Hagspawn who seemed to have been talking or arguing. They had barely reacted to the sudden opening of the door before the bear-god was upon them in all his fury and crushing one of them to the ground under his great forepaws. Okku's face dipped down beneath these and his jaws closed with a clack before he reared away and spat out the fatal chunk of flesh he had taken.

The other three Hagspawn were backing off and seemed to be getting slightly organised for a counterattack against Okku. Their conversation in the language of Hags became even more bitter sounding as they caught sight of Blake and the others and tried to decide what to do. Seeing Gann smile Blake wondered what they were saying and turned to his friend to ask. Before Blake could speak Gann anticipated the question.

"Simply put one is saying 'I _told_ you so'," Gann commented, "or if you wish more detail?"

"If useful," replied Blake.

"They feared to investigate or raise the alarm because of the punishment they risked if that was a mistake, which shows the disadvantage of ruling through fear and severity."

One Hagspawn glared at Gann as he realised this pretty thing shared his parentage but would be admired rather than reviled. Then with a final flurry of what even to Blake sounded more like obscenities than useful discussion the Hagspawn guards finally decided on a plan. One unfortunate fellow was half-shoved towards Okku to hold him off while the other two charged to meet Blake and Gann and Neeshka. They were not well organised as the one that had glared at Gann was sufficiently eager to try to smash his skull in that he got a little ahead of his friend even in that short distance.

Gann flicked his spear out at the arm that was swinging down and the razor-sharp spearhead sliced across tendons and veins. The hand relaxed and the club arced away to clatter and bounce across the stone of the floor. It only took a moment for the Hagspawn to overcome his surprise and the pain and he started to twist to punch out with his other hand. As he did though Neeshka sliced at the side of his neck with her rapier and showed, again, that even tough Hagspawn flesh was no match for her harbour-boy's present to her. The Hagspawn reflexively grabbed at the wound but blood gushed out from between the fingers of that hand as he began to fall forward onto his knees.

Blake swung and his sword coming up met the Hagspawn's neck coming down. The impact nearly decapitated the Hagspawn even though it had to slice through the hand as well as the neck. It also knocked Blake's sword back and left him a little off-balance with his shield and sword out of line and seeing a chance the second of those Guards tried to club in at his head. Gann however had sidestepped a little and stabbed in at the other Hagspawn's knee and thigh. This was not a deep wound but was enough to make Blake's attacker stumble and give Blake a chance to regain his balance and counter-attack.

Taking a short step forward Blake slammed his shield into the stumbling Hagspawn and finished what Gann's attack had started. Neeshka bounded back in and stabbed down though the Hagspawn's hide armour and into his heart a moment before Gann's spear thrust back in and into the side of his skull. Bone crunched and flesh parted and magic discharged to worsen the wounds that even without that would have both been fatal. Meanwhile Okku had dealt with the last of that group of Guards and, ignoring a desperate attempt to club at him, had simply torn the Hagspawn's guts out with one swipe of a mighty paw.

The door to the next room was already open and looking through into it Blake's eyes met the dead ones of what appeared to be a Lich. It was hard to judge the expressions of a corpse, even one that was moving and still had some flesh on its skull, but Blake could feel the waves of malevolence coming towards them as the Lich moved further back into the shadows of that room. Cautiously he led the way to and through the doorway into the next room. For a moment the two groups looked at each other.

"This could be trouble," Blake muttered, ignoring Okku's grunt of disagreement. Those two female Vampires looked as tough as the ones he'd had some problems with back at Castle Never. Perhaps worse the armour protecting two of the other undead looked in good condition rather than, as in the barrow, being rusty or looking, as in Myrkul's temple, as if it had been worn when the occupant was burned and beaten to death.

"Fool, this is your _death_… not mere trouble," hissed the Lich, from safely behind its followers. "That you bypassed the queue was a grave enough mistake as it served to anger me. That you might have done what they accuse you of is just more reason to end your existence. Minions… kill!"

"Go to Kelemvor and death, all of you," Blake growled back.

Obedient to their master the Lich's minions charged forward. Obedient to his nature of disdaining hesitation or subtlety Okku counter-charged but had to pull up short, claws digging into the rough matting, as in perfect unison the two armoured undead stabbed their swords forward. The great haunches of the bear-god tensed to drive him forward again, past the swords or with them as they withdrew for another strike, but Blake could see the Vampires circling around to attack Okku's flanks. The mummies were also doing their best to charge but their shuffling progress was far slower than the Vampires' loping stride.

Too late Blake realised the Lich, unlike the Red Wizards in the Veil, was not content to leave things to its subordinates. Lightning arced from the Lich into Blake as it completed its spell and then arced from Blake into Gann and Neeshka. The pain of the electricity flowing through him was maddening enough but the pain of hearing the small noise of distress Neeshka made as it flowed into and through her sealed the Lich's fate. Focussing his own power and twisting the weave with his own incantation Blake sent a ray of _Disintegrate_ back and through the Lich's robes into its undead body. The Lich was tough enough the spell did not cascade through it to reduce it to dust but it still staggered back with a crater burned from its dead flesh and bones.

The muscle spasms from the lightning and the pause to cast a spell back had delayed Blake and the others though and this gave the Vampires time to spring. They moved with impressive speed and suddenly the bear-god had one clinging to either side of him. His spirit form dimmed slightly where their claw-like fingernails dug in as their dark magic began to try to drain his near inexhaustible might. Okku shook himself like a dog trying to shed water but the Vampires clung on, their unnatural strength letting them not only keep their grip but threatening to let them draw themselves in to where they could use their fangs.

One of the armoured undead took advantage of Okku's distraction and with all the grace expected from a corpse in full plate stabbed forward again, drawing a dim line across Okku and proving his sword would also drain as well as wound. The cut began to close but slower than normal as the spirit-flesh had to first regain its energy and colour before it could heal. Okku rumbled in annoyance and his rage flowed into his healing.

"Damn," breathed Blake. "He's throwing them around too much to easily strike with a sword, but they're also too close for spells without risking hitting him."

"Throwing them around too much for you harbour-boy," Neeshka said, winking. "I'm not as slow and my sword's not as clumsy."

"Hmm, allow me," said Gann, sprinting off before Blake could respond.

Blake wasn't sure what Gann intended. His spear's longer reach might allow him to stay far enough from Okku to be out of the bear-god's way but still have the spearhead close enough for a Vampire to be shaken onto it. But that seemed unlikely and as Blake heard Gann begin to chant he realised that was not the idea. Then the spirits responded to Gann beseeching them for aid and Blake felt stupid. Gann had said he preferred to use the gifts of the spirits to heal rather than hurt and Okku's form did brighten a little with that aid. The Vampires though shrieked as the energy of life entered their undead forms and drove out some of the energy of death that gave them their unlife. It had not been that powerful a healing so they were not seriously affected, but the distraction of the pain was enough they lost their grip and were flung off into the shadows either side of Okku.

Gann retreated a little as he flinched back away from the flying Vampire and then as he saw how well she had landed. He'd hoped for a less grace and more injury rather than her rolling once and then back up onto her feet. The Vampire's red eyes narrowed and she hissed and exposed her fangs at Gann, angry at the pain he had caused her and her determination now fixing on this new victim. Gann brought his spear into line and took a cautious half step forward to meet the possible attack rather than letting this thing have all the initiative.

Meanwhile freed of the burden of a Vampire on either flank Okku had bounced forward to meet the attack of one of the armoured undead and had swung a huge paw into its side a moment before it could bring its sword in. As Blake had feared this armour was in good condition but armour that could withstand such a blow and the claws of a bear-god was something rarely found on mortals rather than other gods. Metal tore and crumpled and the undead's boots left the ground before it clattered to the stone floor and skidded a short way across it on its other side. The Mummies had finally reached the fight though and with them and the distance he'd knocked it Okku found himself unable to pounce and finish that prey.

Blake looked at Okku who was whirling and swiping and snapping and seemed to be doing well. The other Vampire had not landed as well as the one now facing Gann but she was back on her feet and beginning to move in to attack Okku again. Deciding to let the bear-god have room to work, and with a wave of his sword that showed not all his youthful enthusiasm had been driven out by experience and training, Blake began to charge towards this second Vampire. Neeshka hesitated a moment over whether to help Gann or her harbour-boy. It seemed Gann might need the help more but, with a shrug, Neeshka followed her heart and her sweetheart rather than her judgement.

Glancing over his shoulder Gann had somewhat mixed feelings about this. He supposed it meant they had faith in his abilities but a little less faith and a little more help might have been welcome. Another blur of clawed-hand swipes erupted from the Vampire and Gann parried with a flurry of spearthrusts, using the greater reach of his spear to try to compensate for the Vampire's greater speed. She was exceptionally fast and Gann hoped this was magic that might wear off soon rather than 'natural' unnatural speed or a spell the caster had learned to make persist all day.

Movement from the Lich almost distracted Blake fatally. To turn yourself into that sort of undead required significant arcane skill and power and Blake was worried about what other magic the Lich might know. There was a more pressing problem though so Blake quickly sidestepped and brought his shield across. Vampire claw-fingernails scraped across the magically resistant wood and struck a note off the metal blade ridge. He thrust his sword in counterattack but the Vampire twisted away and then jumped back outside the arc of Blake's backhanded sweep. Turning with that sweep had also let Blake bring his shield back in line though and as Neeshka arrived the Vampire had to dodge again to avoid a rapier blow.

The undead in the undamaged armour struck at Okku and managed to graze him. Ignoring this minor pain as beneath the notice of a god-of-bears Okku continued to turn to strike at and tear one of the Mummies apart. But the other armoured undead had managed to regain its feet and return. Had it been a living creature it would have been bleeding heavily from the rents in its breastplate and finding it very hard to breath with that many smashed ribs. Even as an undead it was badly slowed and the difference between it and the other armoured undead was noticeable as the two of them dabbed and feinted at Okku. With that distraction the Mummy Okku had wanted to attack managed to shuffle-throw itself forward and make contact briefly before being bounced aside. A slight tinge of leprous green tainted Okku's form where the Mummy had touched him but that very quickly faded.

"Ra-hah-hah-ha!" Okku roared in amusement. "I am a god-of-bears, not mere flesh to become diseased by your touch."

Gann frowned slightly as although he was pleased old father bear was having fun he did wish the same were true over here. The spell, if spell it was, showed no sign of fading and there had been a few attacks he'd come too close for his peace of mind to failing to parry. On the other hand, however well he could do the latter, it was words that were his strength rather than fighting and the quickness of the Vampires body might not be matched by her mind.

"Careful Madame," said Gann, trying to sound falsely concerned rather than out of breath. For a moment he envied Okku as a spirit not needing to breathe did not have the problem of being too breathless to speak. Though as a raging god-of-bears he did not have the problem of wanting to speak either. "With the small amount of fabric covering certain things you are more amply supplied with I fear, if you move too incautiously, you might reveal what you'd rather not."

The Vampire had paused in surprise, out of spear range, as Gann spoke but as she realised what he meant she snarled at him and jumped back to the attack. Her rage at mockery from something barely worthy to be her next meal, something that should be begging for mercy or worshipping her beauty, sped her blows but to Gann's relief these had become less controlled and easier to anticipate and parry.

Neeshka had been more able to match the other Vampire's speed and her rapier and the Vampire's talons were flickering back and forth between them. Gradually the speed of blow and counterblow had been increasing and they were pressing each other harder and harder. A fine flush of exertion began to spread across Neeshka's cheeks and forehead as the strain started to tell. And then Blake chopped in at the Vampire, slicing his sword into the join of shoulder and neck and almost diagonally out of the Vampire's side. Neeshka jumped a little at this sudden end to the fight.

"You took your time," complained Neeshka after a moment to recover. Then attempting to distract Blake from her having been almost as surprised as the Vampire she added. "Not that, Sharess willing, I mind you taking your time about some things but…"

"I was trying to keep an eye on the Lich," Blake explained, not distracted but not going to chide his beloved, "and besides giving her the few seconds of only trying to fend off you gave me surprise as her focus narrowed."

Ignoring the words of the little-ones and ignoring the swords of the armoured Undead Okku plunged forward to rend at a Mummy. However amused he had been by the failure of the attempt to infect him this was still a fine reason to rip this thing in half. The swords struck home and inflicted deeper wounds than they had before but Okku cared little as his claws sunk into the old dry fabric and the old dead dry flesh beneath. Snagging it back to his mouth Okku took a firm grip with his teeth, despite the terrible taste, and then reared his head back while stamping down with that paw. There was a tearing noise and Okku achieved his goal. The other Mummy shuffled back a little as the bear-god spat out the one half in its general direction.

To Gann's satisfaction the Vampire he was fighting suddenly slowed. She was still nearly as fast in her rage as she had been before Gann's comment but when magic rather than fury sped her attacks they'd been less wild and left her less vulnerable. Gann saw a chance and rather than stab out again with his spear to fend her off he instead swept the butt end of it around. This was a risk as it required him to step within arm's reach of her and even a glancing blow from her claw like fingernails would sap his strength. But without the extra speed of the magic, and with her not fighting as smart, it was a risk that paid off.

There was a crunch as the iron bands met the Vampire's knee and crushed undead bone and cartilage. She belatedly half-hopped back away from Gann and opened her mouth wide to hiss at him and show off her fangs. This hiss was truncated though as Gann, undistracted by anger or pain, smoothly brought his spear around as if it was a double-bladed paddle and then as the spearhead came in line thrust forward. He was rather glad that for all her speed and strength the skull of a Vampire was not as thick as that of a Wyvern as he remembered how his spear had become trapped the last time he had stabbed a hissing foe in the mouth.

Blake had advanced a little towards the Lich and had the satisfaction of seeing it retreat to try to keep the whirling mess of Okku's fight between them. That would suggest that even if it had not been destroyed it had still been badly affected by the _Disintegrate._ Unfortunately this room was barely better lit than the Skein and the dimness and shadows made it hard to tell if this had been more a wound to the body or to the Lich's self-confidence. Blake heard the hiss from the other side of the room, and its sudden end, but he also heard the Lich begin to chant. With how he tended to cast one spell and then try to get within sword range of foes with magic it was not a talent he often used but Blake concentrated and felt for how the weave was responding to the Lich's incantation. Then he began to chant and match the Lich's efforts, but match them with their exact opposite. Neeshka frowned as her harbour-boy stopped moving and began muttering in magic but took the chance to move so she was protecting him rather than him trying to shield her.

The Vampire had fallen forward as Gann withdrew his spear. Even if her skull was thinner there had been enough drag for her come a little way with the spear before its head slid free of the bone of hers. Gann glanced across to Okku and decided that however much old father bear would deny it he was looking dimmed enough to need some aid. First though Gann brought his spear vertical to thrust down like a piledriver and crush in the Vampire's skull with the butt and try to make sure her unlife was at an end. That done Gann began moving to assist.

Okku roared as another shallow wound was traced across his form. The two armoured undead had been managing to work annoyingly well together despite how one was slowed by its injuries. And though the draining effects of their swords were negligible compared with His strength they still stung. At least the surviving cloth-wrapped thing had moved away rather than be a distraction like it appeared the Hagspawn had just become. His rage, if not the blood he no longer had, singing in his ears Okku ignored whatever it was the Mummy was muttering and smashed his paw again into the armoured undead he had struck before. Already stressed by the previous blow leather straps snapped and buckles and rivets bent and popped so the breast and back plates clattered away in opposite directions. The chainmail beneath resisted being cut through by Okku's claws but bent around his paw rather than hinder it much on its way to shatter the undead's spine.

The other armoured undead lunged forward as Okku shook his paw. The bear-god's claws had become a little entangled in the chainmail links and it took him a moment to free them and send the smashed undead sliding away across the floor. That moment was long enough for the other undead to plunge his sword two-handed deep into Okku's side, between where his ribs would have been. Okku snarled and bucked in pain, ripping the sword from the undead's hands and sending it staggering back but leaving the sword embedded in him. A patch of dimness began to form and slowly spread around the blade to rob Okku's form of its colours.

Blake smiled in satisfaction as the Lich's spell failed. The tight dead flesh of the undead's face moved to snarl back in frustration.

"Er, harbour-boy…" Neeshka said, breaking the exchange.

Turning from the Lich Blake's smile faded as he saw the surviving Mummy had completed its prayer to whichever god still accepted its worship and that looked to have been _Righteous Might_. But it had grown a lot more than when Blake had seen that cast before. Rather than being half-again or double the height the Mummy was closer to triple and even with its stooped posture the ceiling seemed a little low. Blake would still have had confidence that Okku would tear it apart but he could see the sword jutting from him and that the bear-god was distracted with pain and being weakened like a mortal creature with a constantly bleeding wound.

"Help Okku," Blake said, concentrating and beginning to incantate.

Neeshka hesitated a moment. She could see the Lich had begun to try to cast something as well but she trusted her sweetheart and bounded away. Her sword was still clean so she slid it back into her scabbard as she crossed the short distance and leapt. Her strong slender legs took her up to land precisely on Okku and for a moment she rode his thrashing about as she had the spirit-badger back in his barrow, her lithe tail whipping about to help her keep her balance, before she grabbed at the sword hilt. She jumped again and away from Okku, drawing the sword out of his spirit-flesh with her and landing gracefully despite how the drag and weight of that weapon threw her off balance.

Blake could feel the Lich's efforts to do to him what he had done to it. But a ball of flame still formed in front of him in obedience to his spell of _Fireball _and streaked away and into the neck and upper chest of the giant Mummy. Cloth and flesh made dry by ages of death smouldered and blackened as this struck and burned at them. Feeling the heat of the impact Gann glanced over his shoulder with a slight sardonic smile.

"Careful," Gann chided, continuing to stab at the weaponless armoured undead, "I take good care of my hair… so I'd prefer it not scorched."

Acknowledging that with a brief nod Blake noted with satisfaction that as the flames of the fireball vanished this was only to be replaced by the flames of the Mummy having caught alight. It tried to claw away some of the burning wrapping but only managed a few swipes at itself before it found both hands on fire as well. As it staggered about a little Okku chuckled deep in his mighty chest. With how large the prayer had made the Mummy grow even Okku had difficulty reaching that high but relieved of his own pain he reared up and smashed a paw into and across its crotch. His claws carved a great furrow and the damage to its pelvis, the force of the impact, and whatever pain the undead felt from what would have been an emasculating blow drove it back.

Blake had been advancing on the Lich, both of them ready to cast a spell or try to prevent the other from casting, but now the Lich had another problem. It had just long enough to realise how the shadows in the room had shifted and to glance away from Blake and up before the giant Mummy finished losing its balance. There was a distinct crunch as the Mummy fell onto the Lich and then more snapping noises as old dead bone met unyielding stone. The Mummy twitched slightly and slightly raised itself back up before slumping back to the floor and continuing to just burn, the flames slowly spreading down its torso from where they had nearly consumed its shoulders and head.

Looking at how Gann was keeping the armoured undead occupied with his spear thrusts Neeshka considered the sword she was still holding. She hefted it a couple of times to feel the weight and balance. It was so _heavy_ compared with hers, and how much heavier surprised her with how easy her harbour-boy made using this size sword look. But since this last undead was covered with armour and had no vital organs under that to stab perhaps it was time to use a little less finesse and a lot more metal than she preferred. Choosing her moment Neeshka twirled herself around in a two-handed horizontal sweep. She'd not even practised with a longsword, let alone one of the slightly larger swords like Blake's, and Gann had to flinch back a little from the swing. It did its task though, the undead's own sword cutting through its chainmail and through the bones that were all that remained of its neck.

The undead's severed head fell to the floor, the noise of helmet metal on stone merging with the clatter as the rest of it fell and struck the floor. Blake and Neeshka exchanged grins as she came to a stop. He couldn't help it. As much as he knew she had been carried around by her own momentum and the weight of the sword he so admired her grace that it still looked more like a dancer's pirouette than any mistake to him. Neeshka winked and dropped the sword with another clatter, subtly flexing her wrists after the unaccustomed strain, and began moving back towards Blake with a little more wiggle as he was watching and Gann was busy.

It was hard normally for Blake to not watch Neeshka as she moved so the extra sway she put into bosom and hips and the sort of smile she was giving him fixed his eyes firmly on her. Blake opened his mouth to make some comment as Neeshka got closer and as Gann finished beseeching the spirits to channel more power to Okku and heal the bear-god's wounds. Unfortunately his beloved's far more interesting movements had distracted him from noticing that the burning Mummy had been twitching with more than the effects of the fire. With a ripping noise like a dozen sails being shredded in a gale the two halves of its upper torso flew away from each other as the Lich freed himself from being impaled into his servant.

Fragments of burning and burnt cloth and flesh and bone littered the floor around his feet as he stood and glared at them past the more intact lower half of the Mummy. His robes were smouldering slightly and the crown that seemed a common affectation of Liches was askew on his undead head. He had been angered by them having seen the Coven before him and angered still more by the possibility the Coven had been slain and by Blake countering his spells, but this anger paled to insignificance compared with the rage now in his eyes. The Lich took a couple of limping steps away and out of the remains of the Mummy and if it still had lips to pull back to bare its teeth then it would have done as it looked at Blake.

"You will _pay_ for this," the Lich hissed.

"I think not," Blake calmly replied, bringing his shield into guard position and readying himself.

The Lich sprang forward, having abandoned a duel of magic in favour of getting his skeletal hands on this impudent mortal. Blake moved to meet him and deny him a stationary target and, though he was moving with more caution, found he had the advantage of having spent the extra arcane power and effort to make his spell of Haste continue all day. With the Lich's charge and Blake's magic-enhanced speed they soon met and confirmed what the Mummy being torn apart had shown. The Lich was very strong and though Blake blocked the punch with his shield the force of it drove his shield back into him and his knees bent slightly as he was forced back and down a little.

Unfortunately for the Lich its strength was not matched by its durability. Blake had positioned his shield precisely enough that the blow had landed on the metal blade-ridge rather than the flat of the wood. It was blunt compared with a sword but still hard and narrow enough to shatter bone and let the Lich pulp its own fist on it as the bones of its hand were either crushed or split to either side of the ridge. Before the Lich could recover Blake pivoted in his semi-crouched position and swept his sword across. He grunted slightly as a flash of pain showed the Lich, like him, had an aura of _Death Armour_ active but it was only a brief flash of pain as the blade passed through and severed the Lich's lower leg.

The Lich fell as Blake straightened but the undead rolled with the fall and having one foot cut out from beneath it and let that momentum carry it up onto its knees rather than lying prone. It swung another punch with its already ruined hand but with how it had moved it was no surprise to either the Lich or Blake that this missed. Blake set himself to attack again and take advantage of the longer reach his sword gave him and the greater mobility of still having both feet. Seeing this the Lich sneered again.

"Fool," taunted the Lich, "even if you hack this body apart with your crude weapon I shall live on and shall revenge!"

"Hah!" Okku snorted. "Let us tear this noisy thing's limbs from its body little-one and let it live on thus, here in this near abandoned city."

Blake paused and then his sword came in as he smashed the flat of the blade into the side of the Lich's skull to knock it prone. Fresh pain shot up his arm as the magical energy of the _Death Armour_ conducted up his sword and through the leather of his gauntlet into his hand. It did not hurt as much as it might have done though. A slight glow from near his wrist and from the back of his hand and fingers showed at least some of the energy had been absorbed and was being re-radiated by the proofing that protected the plates of his armour.

"Thank you for the reminder," Blake said as the Lich tried to form fresh taunts with half its jaw and skull shattered.

Reaching inside himself Blake dug for the curse and dragged it out of the cage within his mind he had beaten it into. Freed of this cage the hunger began to struggle a little but the club of Blake's will struck at it and forced it back into cowering submission. For a moment though it rallied as it took advantage of Blake's own disgust at the mental image of beating something into that state. Blake had to remind himself that this was an unnatural curse rather than a person or animal worthy of compassion. Seizing the hunger he mercilessly wrenched at its form until it was moulded into the shape he wanted, and then he let it reach out and towards the Lich. Dark tentacles formed behind Blake and there was just enough time for the Lich to realise it had been over-confident and that this was its end before the tentacles writhed and unlife left the corpse.

"Grrrrrr," rumbled Okku in complaint. "_Little-One_. We agreed this curse was not to be lightly used, and that foe was defeated beneath your claws."

"But it also spoke truth," Blake replied, taking a few deep breaths as he caged the curse again. "A Lich's spirit can escape when its body is destroyed and take refuge in something called a 'phylactery' until a new body can be created. And if its body is only _nearly_ destroyed the magics might regenerate even missing limbs."

"Hrmm," mused Okku reluctantly, "so you granted it the death it had tried to avoid."

"Tried to avoid at considerable cost and sacrifice, my friend," Blake smiled, before pausing and continuing in a firmer tone. "And I _did_ say I would not use the curse _unless_ the foe was both hostile and evil. Which that Lich was."

"So you did," conceded Okku at the reminder. "Very well little-one. I shall chide you no further."

Blake nodded and crossed to the armoured undead whose armour and spine Okku had smashed and which was still moving its arms a little. "And as much as the hunger was sated by the Lich I shall not allow it to feed again here," Blake replied as he swept his sword down and decapitated the undead. "Not when I can grant these others rest by other means."

Methodically he worked his way through the rest of their fallen foes. Both the armoured ones had now been decapitated and the Lich had destroyed enough of the burning Mummy's body in tearing itself free of that there had not been enough for the burnt neck and head to remain attached to. The other three though were subjected to a quick chop each from Blake as their heads were still attached and there was still a very slight twitch from his curse as it sensed something remained in their undead forms.

"Hmm," Neeshka mused, taking the time while her harbour-boy dealt with this to consider the armoured undead she'd decapitated. "This armour is not damaged… much… and might even be clean for once."

"Clean?" Gann asked in puzzlement.

"No blood to have spilt," Blake commented as he made his third and final sword sweep, "no bowels to have released in death." He turned to Neeshka as he began wiping his sword clean again. "But I know how you complain about the time it takes me to get dressed with all the buckles and straps and ties…"

Neeshka frowned down at the corpse. She was loath to give up this rare chance but it would take a while to strip it and not be pleasant. "Hmm, you're right," she admitted with a pretty shrug, "better to keep moving."

Of course to Neeshka 'keep moving' meant 'keep moving once the easier to take things had been taken' and under the indulgent gaze of her harbour-boy she happily stowed those things away. She might have decided to not take the armour but she could at least take the swords and unbuckle the armoured undead's sword belts to have the scabbards to go with them. And there were a few pieces of jewellery, magical and otherwise, that also seemed worth prying from fingers or sliding from around the truncated necks.

"Do you need those?" Gann asked as Neeshka slid a scabbarded sword into her Bag of Holding despite this being longer than the bag appeared to be deep.

"Probably not," replied Neeshka, giving Gann a slight smile.

Gann looked at Neeshka's expression and realised he should have asked 'want' rather than 'need' and then the reply would have been different. Knowing that her paramour was at least _some_ sort of nobleman he did wonder if her acquisitive habits were outdated. Looting the dead seemed rather messy if you could live well without needing this as a source of income. Though he supposed that with the value of the enchanted items her actions were hardly scrabbling in plague victim's pouches for coppers.

Despite it having taken long enough for Gann's query and for Okku to have made at least one noise of impatience Neeshka was quite soon finished. The door into the next room was still closed and Blake reluctantly motioned Neeshka forward. He detested the idea of risking her but she did have the best eye for traps and the nimblest fingers for dealing with them and locks. A swift efficient check later and Neeshka nodded to Blake and stepped back as in response he moved to where he could trigger it open and Okku padded forward to be the first to lunge through it.

The sections of doors slid into the frame, the bear-god charged, the others followed, and they found themselves defending against nothing. "No guards," Blake commented needlessly before musing, "which is worrying as I'd expect some here, and for them to be guarding part of the queue."

"Can't you scent that little-one?" murmured Okku, before adding. "No, of course you can't. But my nose tells me that there have been Uthraki here, waiting with growing stench of impatience for some time."

"How old is that scent?" Blake asked, looking around into the shadows.

"Hours rather than days or tendays, and less hours perhaps than you and the Hagspawn slept."

"So if they left then so might have the guards," Blake nodded, "one alerting the other."

"As you said with the Lich," Gann commented to Blake, "this could be trouble. I'd prefer to not fight the 'queuers' or the guards all at once rather than piecemeal."

"And as _I_ said back in the hag-chamber," growled Okku, "they would not bar our passage for long."

Neeshka had made a start on checking the next door and as she straightened from this she smiled to Blake. "Got to admit I'd prefer something more sneaky and subtle," she said, ignoring Okku's 'harrumph', "but follow the bear-god has worked well so far."

Blake smiled back and again he triggered the door and again they followed Okku through it, but again there were no guards. Ahead of them though was a trio of Ogres, one holding a staff that suggested he was a mage and two with clubs that looked pointlessly small compared with their massive hands and gangly arms. They were talking amongst themselves as a small human boy lurked nearby. A smell from one corner showed they had been here long enough at least one meal had passed through them and needed to be expelled.

"We may be able to pass," commented Gann quietly. "These do not seem to have noticed the sound of fighting."

"But _I_ have noticed his slave," Okku rumbled back.

Nodding to them Blake advanced, keeping his sword in his hand but held more casually and with less obvious threat. Whether it was a clank from his Mithril Full Plate or the heavy tread of bear-god pads on stone floor something made the Ogre Mage turn and finally notice them.

"Kepob, too near!" complained the Ogre Mage, glancing down. "I smell you boy stink! Go 'way!"

"I smell 'him Ogre stink'," Neeshka whispered to Blake, "so him already too near."

Blake nodded to Neeshka as the Ogre Mage put a smile on his face and gestured in welcome. "Ah, you finished with Coven, yes?"

"We have, indeed," Gann replied, smiling in amusement at being able to mislead with the truth.

"Good, good," nodded the Ogre Mage, "queue is to move soon then. Uthraki left, grumbling about something, but we not moved to next room. No guard to tell us and not do without be told. Not want to lose place in queue like Genasi. Them Prince not want to make nature in room, him go outside to Privy and not be let back in. Funny. Much amuse."

"Quite amusing yes," Blake said politely.

"No wonder he looked so sour harbour-boy," commented Neeshka.

"Wait, wait," the Ogre Mage frowned as he worked through the logic, "how you know how him look? Him outside less time than Gawatha inside, so if you see then you outside when Gawatha already inside in queue…" Then a thought occurred to Gawatha and the frown was replaced by a wheedling expression. "But no argue. If you brought money, yes? Gawatha like money. More than fight. Just about."

"We have money," Blake replied, "but you have that boy… Kepob."

"Ah!" said Gawatha, thinking he understood. "You look at Kepob? You want trade Gawatha for him? As well as for not fight?"

Blake's sword twitched up a little. "No, it means no trade as I do not give gold to slavers. Prepare to die."

"You anger?" Gawatha asked in total bafflement over why that would make a difference. "I not understand. You _want_ fight?"

"No…" growled Okku loudly as he began to prowl forward. "We want you dead, _stupid_ Ogre keeper of slaves."

Finally realising these people were either insane, or at least insane enough to prefer to fight than to pay, Gawatha hurriedly cast one of Bigsby's spells and a huge green hand appeared and flung itself at Okku. This barely affected him in his rage but did slow him enough the other two Ogres were able to get in his way. A long Ogre arm swung and faintly coloured ripples spread out from where that club had bounced off the spirit-meat of Okku's right shoulder. This did not injure the bear-god but did draw his attention and Okku turned and pounced, the ripples having already faded to nothing in the moment that motion took.

As Okku's weight and power bore the unfortunate Ogre down onto the stone floor Gawatha hurriedly cast another spell. Those claws looked sharp and even Ogre hide was better protected with a layer of _Stoneskin_ magic. Though that might not be enough if things continued to go ill. He was glad he have foresight and have emergency spell. Much useful when people insane and want fight just because Gawatha have Kepob boy.

Dropping his club the Ogre grabbed with both hands and their long fingers managed to get a grip and entangle themselves in the spirit-fur of Okku's cheeks. Okku thrust down with his weight and the power of his broad neck but the Ogre managed to hold the bear-god's jaws at bay, though his arms were quivering with the strain and both he and Okku knew he would soon tire. Frustrated at being hindered even for an instant Okku roared in the Ogre's face and the Ogre roared back with teeth that were almost as large and with breath that was far worse. The other Ogre tried to help his friend and began frantically clubbing Okku on the back of his head. This was a little counterproductive as Okku was able to ignore the blows but each impact hammered his head down a little against the efforts of the Ogre on the floor to keep him back.

As the clubbing Ogre brought his arm down again he saw a glint of light and too late recognised the source. The sword that was being swept up to meet his descending arm, and had caught the meagre light, was almost big enough for an Ogre and its edge with the combined impact had no trouble shearing through his wrist. Pain from his hand being severed and from the magic that had discharged from the blade on its way through stunned the Ogre a little. He stared for a moment at the stump and at the blood pulsing from it with every heartbeat where veins and arteries had not been burned shut by the energies.

Blake had already stepped back and as the Ogre stared at his wrist Gann moved in. He took advantage of that distraction to flick his spear into the Ogre's neck, the spearhead sliding in up under the jawbone before being quickly withdrawn. The Ogre staggered and his neck and chest became swiftly drenched with blood from the deep serious wound Gann had inflicted. He was still standing though so Neeshka darted forward for her turn. Pain dimmed eyes hazily turned in her direction but before the Ogre could even realise it might need to react Neeshka was already past him and had cut open his side with a deft thrust and slice as she passed. This was finally too much for the Ogre's stubbornness to overcome and he began to topple.

Okku suddenly reversed his efforts from pushing down to pulling back and away from the Ogre on the floor. That Ogre had been weakening but was still shoving hard enough for Okku to use this to give himself some extra momentum as he sprang off to one side. There was just enough time for the Ogre on the floor to begin to wonder why the bear-god had given up on trying to bite his face off before that question was answered as his friend fell on him and drove his breath from him with an 'oof'. Growling slightly to himself the Ogre tried to get his friend off him and his arms disentangled but had only halfway finished before Okku reached out one great paw and wiped its claws across the Ogre's face to remove it and the front of the Ogre's skull.

"Nicely done, my friend," Blake commented, as Okku shook that paw and something plopped from between the claws onto the floor. Seeing Gann and Neeshka develop nearly identical pouts Blake hurriedly corrected himself. "My friends, I mean… wait. Where did the other go? Or the boy?"

"Invisible?" asked Neeshka, giving her harbour-boy a brief frown that he'd had to be reminded to congratulate her.

"The door onwards has not opened," Gann pointed out as Neeshka stabbed the uppermost Ogre in the back and through the heart to make sure it was finished. "So they would not have escaped…"

"They have not," rumbled Okku, interrupting, "and…"

Okku suddenly whirled and snapped his massive teeth shut on what looked like thin air. They did not quite close and the bear-god shook his head around as if there was something there before he opened his jaws and there was a thud from the nearby wall. Okku turned slightly and began to advance towards where that noise had come from and suddenly Gawatha became visible as he swung his staff to fend Okku off and that hostile act dispelled his spell of _Invisibility_. That was as much as he could do though before collapsing down onto one elbow as even _Stoneskin_ layered on with a Chain Shirt and his innate toughness could not prevent the teeth of a bear-god from tearing into his guts. Knowing that sort of disembowelling wound could take a long time to die from Gann had mercy and calmly stabbed Gawatha in the side of the skull where the bone was thin at the temples.

"And invisible maybe," continued Okku in satisfaction, "but what Bear would hunt by sight alone?"

Blake nodded at that truth. "And the boy?"

"Him I cannot scent," Okku admitted, "and his footsteps would be far lighter."

"Even I lost sight of him," added Neeshka with a rueful smile, "and I'm kind of an expert on sneaky."

"Well… if he didn't want to stay with us, and he's that sneaky," Blake said, giving Neeshka a slight smile back, "then he can get out of here by himself."

"I am not sure of the idea of abandoning a child," frowned Gann, not sure also whether he felt more strongly here for having been so recently reminded of his own abandonment in the Wilds of Rashemen.

"Neither am I," Blake replied, "but you can't give help where you can't find the person to aid."

"Believe me, my sweetie had the opposite problem with children," commented Neeshka as she finished wiping her sword and scabbarded it.

"Oh, don't remind me," Blake said, closing his eyes a moment in memory.

"Remind him of what?" asked Gann, willing to be distracted by something Blake did not want to hear.

"Well…" Neeshka teased, winking at Blake before turning her attention to checking over the door onwards. "You remember he was in the Neverwinter City Watch?"

"Yes?" asked Gann again, encouragingly.

"There were these street-kids," Neeshka continued, slender fingers and keen eyes searching for trigger wires, "and he was nice to them."

"_Too_ nice," groused Blake. "I ended up with a gang of pickpockets and cutpurses deciding I was their friend and could have the joy of looking after them. They even followed me from Neverwinter to Crossroad Keep."

"Sounds like they knew a good thing when they saw it," Gann commented.

"Hrm," grunted Blake. He had given that little girl a second chance. His eyes had not been good enough for him to be sure he'd seen her take the coin purse but he had noticed the suspicious bulge in her boot cuff. Once the purse had been recovered and returned the owner and his friend seemed happy to leave with the assurance from Blake, as a Watchman, that it would be dealt with. Whether they would have been as happy if they'd known he was going to deal with it through a stern warning rather than dragging the girl back to the cells was another matter. The girl and the boy who'd arrived to defend her had seemed grateful for being given a chance and a lecture rather than prison.

But then there had been the thug and that same boy. As contemptible as the man was in demanding money from a child it was noticeable the boy's objection was whether he needed to pay a cut rather than denying they had been picking pockets in that gang's territory. Blake had been about to arrest the thug when the boy, noticing the passers-by, had started pretending the thug was his father and begging him to not beat him. This had angered Blake as it made him wonder if the boy, and the girl, had been just as insincere before and their assurances that they had taken the warning were only another example of their practised skill at lying.

Blake had intervened and bluntly told the small crowd the man was under arrest for attempted extortion and that the boy was lying to gain false sympathy. The boy had not seemed intimidated when Blake reminded him that he'd meant it when he said they had one chance. But he'd not protested and especially not after the thug tried to escape and got a warhammer in the knee from Khelgar for that trouble. Dragging the thug to the cells Blake had wondered if he had been too soft-hearted that he'd not brought the boy as well, _Hold Person_ would have prevented his escape or him ditching the coin purses Blake was confident he'd have found on him.

When the boy and the girl and some of their friends turned up at the Sunken Flagon that seemed to confirm his mistake. Giving them a single chance had not meant he wanted to do them any more favours but turning them away from there, or later from Crossroad Keep, would likely have been the one deed that could have united Neeshka and Elanee in their condemnation. He'd let kindness overcome his responsibility to uphold the laws of Neverwinter and this was his punishment. It seemed Tyr had not thought this enough justice to counteract Torm's annoyance at this dereliction of his duty and obedience to his superiors in the City Watch.

Neeshka finished with the door and her smile of triumph dimmed very slightly as she saw Blake's very sour expression. She'd thought the little thief-lets were cute and that her harbour-boy was happy that he'd 'saved' them from a life of poverty or crime. It seemed he'd been rather less happy with the situation than he had let on and Neeshka decided it was even more fortunate she'd kept an eye on those kids to stop them falling into old habits. Or at least to stop them being caught with the one extra chance she gave them past Blake's to not disappoint her harbour-boy's trust. She didn't want him to be hurt and more selfishly, with her history, she didn't want him to start brooding on whether thieves could ever truly reform.

Shaking his head slightly to dispel the thoughts Blake moved forward and triggered the door. The door slid back into its frame and Okku began to advance but then stopped, raised his nose and sniffed and growled softly as he did. The others looked to him as the bear-god's expression soured a little in disappointment.

"Hrrrr," Okku complained, gesturing with his great head, "no foes here to fall beneath our claws little-one." Blake and the others moved closer as he continued. "But from further ahead the stench of Hagspawn is even worse than when we were going to enter the chamber of Hags." Okku turned one yellow eye on Blake. "We _could_ just rend them but your mate and our own Hagspawn might prefer less straightforwardness."

"Not just them, my friend," Blake replied. "I am not as subtle as my sweetheart but I do favour trying to listen to the Red Knight and gaining whatever advantage I can wherever I can."

"What advantage could we gain here though?" asked Gann. "I doubt they would abandon whatever ambush they have planned if we simply asked."

"Depends how we ask," Neeshka grinned, opening a pouch and showing off the contents. Blake looked at those for a moment and then smiled and nodded.

Silently Neeshka slipped away down the short corridor, seeming to almost merge with the shadows along the left edge of it and then vanishing completely as she used her Ring of Invisibility. She'd not bothered with it against the Frost Giants as there'd been plenty of cover and it would have taken the fun out of the challenge. Here though were bare stone walls and enemies expecting the direction from which she was coming. Nonetheless she'd not been able to resist waiting here until there was the chance her harbour-boy might mistake the Ring's effect for her own sneakiness. As she approached the end of the short corridor her sharp ears began to pick up the murmur of quiet conversation coming from her right.

Very cautiously she crouched to peer around the corner to her left and at knee height where they'd not expect to see a head emerging. Crouching was probably a needless precaution but invisibility could be seen through and any extra sneakiness was worth performing. There didn't look to be any Hagspawn waiting there to ambush them as they entered the room so Neeshka slipped around that corner, staying silent and staying in the shadows. This let her see that waiting for them and clustered around a shadow portal that was probably the exit were what looked like twenty Hagspawn. They were beginning to show signs of impatience and straining her ears Neeshka thought she heard the word 'door' so it seemed they might have heard that open and be wondering what the delay was.

It seemed unkind to Neeshka to make them wait any longer. She reached into her pouch to take a sphere in each hand and then reached inside herself for one of the less visible gifts her ancestry had given her. As much as Blake seemed to delight in her and think her beautiful Neeshka was still reluctant to remind him there was more difference between them than the cosmetic. The years of being called 'goat-girl' or 'fiend' had left a mark almost as indelible as the spots around her horns but as reluctant as she was to use this power she was even more reluctant to risk her harbour-boy getting hurt. _Darkness_ erupted to Neeshka's command and swept over the surprised Hagspawns. Then the no longer invisible but darkness hidden Neeshka lobbed with both hands.

The Hagspawn had begun to protest in surprise at the _Darkness_ but those protests ended as it was lit by the detonation of the two Blastglobes. Flame burst out and over them and swirled in the air as the alchemy and magic created a cloud of sparks and fire. Neeshka retreated, trying to make enough noise to draw them in pursuit and managing to at least be only very quiet rather than silent. Hearing those footsteps despite the howls of pain from themselves and their friends the Hagspawn shouted encouragement to each other. At least if they chased whatever had attacked them they would be getting out of this cloud.

Blake had twitched as he heard the sudden screaming. Even the moment before he saw Neeshka running towards him with a strange slapping stride had felt too long to wait and he had to resist moving to meet her. Then as she reached him and, with a wink, retreated behind Okku the other end of the short corridor filled with Hagspawn. They paused slightly at the sight of the bear-god and gave Blake a chance to see the burns covering some of their hide and their hide armour. Then with a battle cry they charged and Blake began to incantate with as much calm as he could.

They were moving fast so they got more than halfway down the corridor before Blake's spell was complete. With how they were crowded together he doubted the fireballs of a spell of _Firebrand_ would be able to find a path to strike their individual targets, though that would be little consolation to those Hagspawn unfortunate enough to get in the way of more than one. Instead a great plume of frost erupted from Blake's hand as a _Cone of Cold_ froze moisture from the air and coated the damp walls and floor with a layer of ice. The Hagspawn at the front of the charge suddenly looked as if they had been caught in a blizzard. Those that did not collapse with the shock of the cold did stagger and then as their feet met the fresh ice some fell to join those that had collapsed in tripping those behind them.

The momentum of the charge was broken like cavalry finding a hidden ditch the hard way and Okku lunged forward to take advantage. He'd have done this even without Blake's spell as the narrowness of the corridor meant the Hagspawn could not surround him or attack him in more than twos or threes. But against foes already burned or frozen and slipping on ice that the bear-god's claws, their spirit-form undulled by wear, could easily pierce to gain grip? That made it almost insultingly easy and as he smashed a Hagspawn against the wall to leave a splatter of blood on the stonework Okku began to regret having allowed the mortals to gain them so much advantage.

Following the bear-god Blake found himself unable to do more than finish those few Hagspawn that still clung to life despite the horrific wounds of Okku's passage. Gann shrugged as he stabbed one feebly moving enemy in the heart and saw Blake glance at him. He had no objection to an easy fight after the trouble the Vampire had caused him and was glad of the unexpected simplicity. Ahead of them Okku reached the end of the corridor and plunged into what Gann realised was more than simple shadow as it even dimmed the colours of that ancient spirit. Screams of pain and fear echoed from within it as Okku dealt with those Hagspawn that had been too badly burned to escape the effects of the Blastglobes and had continued to be burned by this while lying there and waiting for it to end.

"I think," mused Gann, trying to ignore the noises and pointing with his spear at a large corpse with a larger chunk missing from its throat, "this fellow is the large one we saw outside."

Blake nodded. "There don't seem to be any others of similar stature, so he is unusual. Might be twins… do Hags have twins?"

"You know," admitted Gann, "I am not sure. But if they do I am quite certain that both babies would not survive. My mother's people are _not_ very maternal."

The _Darkness_ covering one side of the room faded to reveal Okku among the Hagspawn he'd scattered a little further from the shadow portal in dismembering and finishing them. Okku looked around and growled in satisfaction that this 'fight' was over and they could find something that would be a more worthy challenge for a god-of-bears. As Blake also looked around he took the chance to admire Neeshka as she bent to quickly check over the less gruesome corpses. He indulged himself in a moment of contemplating how this showed to advantage that Sune had blessed her so her legs and rear matched the rest of her in beauty. Then he reluctantly turned away to contemplate what lay ahead rather than his sweetheart's behind.

"Since 'outside' was in the Shadow Plane I suppose that portal was to be expected, and has the advantage that I don't think sound would travel through it like it would a door. Perhaps we might be able to leave in peace."

"Hmmm, I don't know harbour-boy," commented Neeshka, "if that is the large-and-leery guard from outside, and that one his smaller-but-still-leery friend, then them coming inside would have shown something was wrong."

"As would the fragments of various foes clinging to us," Gann added, glancing at the others and adding, "or rather clinging to us aside from our pristine old father bear and his self-cleansing spirit form."

"If you wish to become a Telthor then let me know, spawn-of-hags," rumbled Okku. "We could likely make do until you returned."

"A generous offer I am sure," Gann smiled, "but there is a joy in bathing as well as it being a necessity if one is to enjoy the other joys of flesh."

"The Shadow Plane is… well… shadowy," Blake said, ignoring the byplay, "and the lack of colour would also help details to be missed. I think a quick wipe off of some of the gore and Neeshka and I scabbarding our swords would…" He stopped as he thought. "Would, as you say, _still_ not let us pass without a fight. And the Illithid would be better left dead anyway…"

"But you wish to try," interrupted Gann, "even if there is no real chance you prefer some degree of diplomacy."

"Was _that_ why his sword was not in his hand when he faced me and my army?" Okku asked. "Or when he faced me in my barrow?"

"I'd assume so," replied Gann.

Okku murmured to himself in puzzlement at the strangeness of this little-one as Blake and the others tried to make it less obvious they'd been fighting. It had seemed so inconceivable to the bear-god that either confrontation could have ended with anything but battle that he had missed that attempted message. Perhaps if he used weapons himself then them being drawn or not would have meant more to him, or perhaps if the little-one had not been able to draw his sword quite so instantly it would have seemed more significant.

Soon the mortals had restored themselves to some degree of cleanliness and Blake stepped forward and into the Shadow Portal. The dull colours of the dreary slimy stonework became brilliant by comparison with the scene that formed as he and the others entered the Plane of Shadows again.

"You there!" a petulant voice demanded. Blake glanced in that direction and saw it was the best-dressed Genasi speaking. This was likely the Prince who Gawatha had mentioned and for some reason he was still loitering near the outhouse. "How did you get past me? I demand to know."

Neeshka caught Blake's eye and gave him a slight smile of sympathy. Blake returned it and then decided on the honest simple answer, "There was a side entrance."

"You _dare_ to have barged in front of Royalty?" the Genasi Prince almost shrieked. Blake ignored this and began walking. "Peasant! Where are you going? You _scum_! Answer me! You dare to ignore _me_?"

Blake continued to ignore the gabbling and to walk but with a sinking heart he realised Neeshka was no longer keeping stride with him. He sighed as he turned and saw her a pace or two behind him. She was standing glaring at the Genasi Prince with her tail flicking from side to side like an angry and ready to pounce cat. The Prince was too certain of his own significance to take any heed of this but his servants were exchanging nervous looks behind his back. They at least seemed to have noticed that the only one of her group that was not well armed and armoured was the looming form of the bear-god, and that was because he would need no such aid.

"_We_ 'dared' more than that," Neeshka spat, almost hissing the words and adding to the impression of an angry cat, "_you_ might as well leave… the Coven is nothing more than corpses now."

"The _insolence_!" exploded the Genasi Prince, his voice rising even more towards a shriek at the tone as much as the words. "I have waited here so long and now you have made that a waste of Our time?"

"Wait… the Coven is dead?" the Ogre Merchant frowned. He had been watching with amusement but now the smile left his face. "That means no more visitors, and that means no more customers for Omaga to sell to or insult!"

_'And the Illithid I wait for has not emerged,'_ 'said' the Mind Flayer, his facial tentacles writhing a little as he projected his thoughts. _'Ah, I mention that and I see in your surface thoughts that you slew him in dreams and this also killed him in reality…'_

"Servants!" the Genasi Prince demanded. "Kill them!"

"Er…" said one Genasi as Neeshka took a step back towards the waiting Blake and they both drew their swords.

"You make Omaga have to find another place for shop," Omaga complained, bucking on a shield the size of Neeshka's that looked very tiny on his larger arm, "probably worse place, I hurt you for that!"

_'And I shall punish you for striking at your betters,' _thought the Illithid at them, _'pitiful members of slave races.'_

Noticing his unarmed and unarmoured servants seemed reluctant to charge dangerous looking foes the Genasi Prince looked even more petulant and gestured them forward. "Well… go on!" he demanded again. "Help the Ogre and the Illithid! _Move!_"

Okku lost patience with all this hesitation and sprang towards the Mind Flayer. A brief expression of fear at having the bear-god suddenly looming above him was replaced by satisfaction as the Illithid pushed out with his telekinesis and managed to slow Okku's descent. Okku thrashed a little to try to break this mental grip, his spirit-claws digging gouges in the wood of the walkway but not getting much purchase as the Illithid was supporting most of his weight. Facial tentacles going taut with strain the Mind Flayer tried to do more than hold off the attack, tried to get the extra strength to divert Okku enough to miss him or even to go off the edge of the dock.

And then Gann interrupted this duel as his spear thrust out and into the Mind Flayer's gut. For a moment it seemed the Illithid had barely noticed with how great its concentration on holding Okku was but then the pain registered as Gann twisted his spear within its body. There was a slight quiver as Gann pulled his spear back and then the telekinetic hold slipped and Okku's interrupted pounce was finally completed. His great paws crashed down and there was a crunch as he almost pulped the Illithid's frail body flat beneath them.

Meanwhile Blake had continued to hesitate. He did not want to kill the Genasi as, aside from their Prince, they seemed to not want to fight. But that 'want' could change if they saw a way to fulfil their Prince's demands, such as the distraction of a charging Ogre. Despite the spell of _Haste_ that Omaga had muttered after he pulled a Greatsword from one of his display barrels the Ogre still had far enough to run that Blake had a moment to spare. If he tried fighting the Genasi hand to hand there was a slender chance they might be able to brawl him off the edge of the walkway so instead he reached out to the Weave and chanted the words to create a _Greater Missile Storm_.

Magic energies formed around Blake's hand and then the missiles arced out and into the Genasi. They burned easily through the cloth of their clothing and deep into their bodies. Blake froze in astonishment as he saw the results. He'd hoped to wound them enough to further discourage them from attacking, to stagger them and knock some to their knees, but these missiles caused all of the Genasi to fall and Blake had seen enough people fall to know when they were unconscious or dead rather than just reeling in pain. He'd not been sure if Fire Genasi were immune to fire but he'd rejected _Firebrand_ because if they weren't that was more likely to be fatal rather than disabling. However it seemed his restraint had only saved some arcane power rather than some lives.

Neeshka had realised her harbour-boy was spellcasting and had moved to meet Omaga and keep the Ogre at bay until Blake finished. There was not that much room and the planks were quite slippery but she managed to duck to one side and cut at Omaga's knee below where his long coat of chainmail reached. This was more painful than crippling but Omaga was diverted. He howled and swept his Greatsword across in a backhanded blow with enough power that it could have cut Neeshka in half. She frowned a little as she realised Blake had finished his spell but hadn't joined her yet.

"A little help?" asked Neeshka as she ducked under the blow, her left hand briefly bracing her as Omaga realised that he had swung too high.

Blake saw the Ogre begin to halt his sword to bring it back again. With the reach that blade and his own size gave him the walkway was not broad enough for Neeshka to dodge to the sides so she had to retreat back along it. An image of his sweetheart's body broken by a blow from Omaga flitted across Blake's mind and drove out the shock of having killed the Genasi. Delaying to deal with them had put Neeshka in more danger so for that they deserved to have died almost as much as this Ogre did for daring to strike at her. Blake charged with his own magically enhanced speed and a sword not much smaller than Omaga's.

Omaga noticed the heavier footsteps drumming on the planks and that he was fighting alone. The Genasi showed no signs of moving and it was even less likely that the mess that was all that remained of the Illithid would be of any help. It was not even in the right place for Omaga to hope one of these people would slip on it. Perhaps some discretion was in order so he could survive to find the place for another shop, even if so far they had hurt him rather than him hurting them as he had promised. Omaga turned and began to run with all the speed that his magic could give him despite his knee wound.

Seeing this Gann took a chance and with a slight grunt of effort launched his spear in an arc over Blake's head. He could not throw it far as it was sturdily built for stabbing rather than being a light javelin but within that limited range it struck hard and Gann's aim was good. The arc ended as the spearhead bit into Omaga's back between his shoulder blades but, to Gann's surprise, it did not bite deep. Rather than sink into the Ogre it seemed to barely pierce the chainmail and the flesh beneath before Omaga's pained convulsion jolted it free.

Unfortunately for him his reaction threw Omaga off-balance and gave Blake the chance to catch up and slice across the base of his back. Again the armour resisted and, even with the magic on it, Blake's sword did not cut cleanly through. Some chain links did not part so it was a few ragged shallow cuts rather than one deeper continuous wound. The energy discharging from the blade did penetrate though into Omaga's spine. He fell forward onto his face as his legs suddenly stopped working properly. For a moment he still had some hope as he could feel his toes tingling and so more sensation and use might return to his legs. Then Neeshka's firm grasp closed on Omaga's topknot and she hauled his head up and back with all her slender strength to expose his throat to slit it with her rapier.

"Mmm. I suppose that was necessary," said Gann with a little distaste. Part of this was the large quantity of blood spreading across the walkway to drip off the edges and through the gaps in the planks but part was that Omaga had been helpless and might have been willing to make a deal. Gann retrieved his spear before it could roll away with a splash and looking at the spearhead and Omaga's back went on. "Good armour, if damaged now, so does that also tempt our _covetous_ Tiefling?"

"Have you smelt Ogre armour?" Neeshka asked, taking no offence at the description. "Even when they haven't crapped in it with dying?"

"A good point, and you and your paramour did mention how unusual it was for such to be clean."

"Can take his shield though," Neeshka grinned, putting deeds to words once she had wiped her rapier and scabbarded it.

Meanwhile Blake had returned to the Genasi to confirm he had killed rather than incapacitated them. To his annoyance there was no rise and fall of chests in breath and the eyes that remained open only did so in death. Having unbuckled and stowed the shield somewhere in her magic bags Neeshka joined him. She stood there companionably, looking at the corpses, as Blake finished wiping his sword. Then as he slid it back into its scabbard she gave Blake an enquiring tilt of her head and raise of her eyebrows. The finery on the Prince seemed to have especially caught her eye.

"Nothing too identifiable from them, especially their idiot master," Blake said with a sigh.

"Do I look like an amateur?" asked Neeshka taking mock insult. Blake smiled and acknowledged this with a wave.

"Would that matter?" Gann asked, hearing the exchange. Seeing the puzzled look Blake gave him, and the quick glance from Neeshka, Gann continued. "Whatever trinkets your lady takes or leaves the fat man and the idiot Wizard would see these corpses and likely tell their tales."

"Ah," breathed Blake, finally realising why they had looked so nervous. A moment more thought and he nodded. "They'd not know who had arrived while they were locked in dreams and was waiting out here. Have you finished with those my sweet?"

"They didn't have much," Neeshka complained, straightening with a grace that even under these circumstances still drew Blake's eyes.

"My friend," Blake said, turning to the silently waiting bear-god and gesturing at the Genasi, "can you please throw these as far as you can out into the lake. It is not proper burial to honour Jergal but it is at least returning their flesh to the eternal cycle."

"Hrrrrmmmm," Okku grumbled, "I dislike hiding my kills and my victories. They are something to be proud of and I do not shy away from the consequences of my deeds. I admit though that your curse is distraction enough without any others added on, so very well little-one. We shall do this."

Okku padded over and began throwing the Genasi off into the darkness with a delicate looking bite, grasping their clothes in his teeth like a mother cat grasping the scruff of a kitten, and a far less delicate looking motion of his great head and neck. After a few of these Gann turned from watching this and back to Blake.

"And the Illithid? Or the Ogre merchant?"

"The Mind Flayers would not be more angered by us having killed two than they would be by one," replied Blake, looking at the crushed mess Okku's paws had made before gazing down the walkway. "And I think the Ogre's corpse they'd expect as he'd not abandon his shop. On the other hand even if he is not bleeding as much now his heart is no longer pumping it out he is still bleeding."

"Not the most pleasant puddle to walk through," Gann commented, "but it does seem to be draining away."

"Which is the problem," said Blake with a rueful smile, "blood in the water can attract things. And though it would solve the problem of witnesses it would be unfriendly if our actions lured one of the tentacle-creatures too close before the two dreamers depart."

"Myself I am concerned also with them coming too close before _we_ depart," Gann replied smoothly.

"Then let us place the bait elsewhere," Okku growled, shouldering past them and down the walkway.

Blake glanced at Neeshka, who smiled and winked. "Don't worry harbour-boy; I got the rest as well as the shield."

There was a heave and an impressively distant splash as Okku did not wait for permission. Omaga had only been a small Ogre but with the weight of his chainmail even a small Ogre was a considerable burden to even lift. That Okku had thrown him with such ease and to such a distance underlined again the strength of the bear-god. Seeing the glint of Omaga's Greatsword where it had skidded when he fell Blake began walking over to pick it up.

Hefting the sword and feeling its weight Blake commented. "Fine workmanship, though as big and clumsy as Neeshka calls my sword… and me… this is too much metal even for me."

"Glad you know your limits," Neeshka called, from where she had continued on to examine Omaga's shop, "you want to take it anyway? Found its scabbard."

Blake nodded and went to join his sweetheart. She handed him the scabbard and for a few moments they examined the other things on display and within the magically capacious barrels and chests of the shop. Blake could see how Neeshka's eyes were lighting up. The last time she'd had that sort of glow in them had been when they'd seen the vast hoard on Mount Galardyrm. It seemed he was going to have to caution and disappoint her in the same way again.

"Darling, there are some potions and scrolls and jewellery we can carry, and some tools for your talents, but we…"

Neeshka pounced and shut him up with a quick kiss. "But we don't have any Greycloaks to send and carry the rest?" Blake nodded and Neeshka's normal smile broadened into a dazzling grin. "Fine, been wanting to give this Bag of Holding you gave me a _real_ test!"

"It had seemed it had been tested enough," Gann commented, a slight smile of amusement on his own face. "Or tested often enough at least."

Blake shrugged as Okku joined them in watching as Neeshka happily began loading an entire shop into her bags. This was slightly slowed by her having to unload the containers and reload their contents but she, and Blake, remembered Grobnar's tale about the unfortunate consequences of trying to put a magic container inside another magic container. Even with the many tales that had been told of the abilities of Bags of Holding it was startling how large shields and bundles of full sets or armour could vanish into its maw.

"Hmm, little-one," rumbled Okku, watching this and the swiftness with which Neeshka sorted things into different bags, "I begin to wonder how much was left of my barrow after you and your mate passed through it."

"Hah! He was concerned about angering you," Neeshka said, still a little annoyed and adding after a moment, "spoilsport."

"A misplaced concern, my rage was already so great that material things would not have mattered to it," replied Okku, confirming Neeshka had been right and drawing a sigh of disappointment at the missed opportunities from her.

"Nonetheless, we only took things from the Imaskari Ruins. And from the offering pile guarded by the Orglash so we had those offerings to appease rather than have to slay the spirit that had sealed the exit."

"Another misplaced concern," chuckled Okku, "in my barrow, under my guardianship, if that spirit wished to return then it would. And battling you would have been a pleasant diversion from its spirit-sleep."

Blake nodded to Okku, remembering how the bear-god had expressed his own delight at finding battle again. Okku's words though had reminded Blake of Neeshka's suggestion back at the barrow and for a moment he teetered on the edge of asking if Elanee taking the form of a female bear would have been an even more 'pleasant diversion'. She was a very attractive Elf so it seemed likely that when she shifted forms she would be attractive to males of the species she had changed into. But was that sort of attraction something that was lost when you became spirit rather than flesh? Shrugging Blake dismissed the question and turned to his beloved.

"You seem to have found much worth taking," Blake said, looking at magic bags that felt like they should be bulging from Neeshka's hard work and then at the happy satisfied look on her pretty face. "Anything of immediate use other than general supplies?"

"There was another shield like the one the Ogre was using," replied Neeshka, straightening and turning, "but you're the only one its magic would work well for, and I know you prefer to carry a door around with you to shelter behind."

"Interesting doorways you have in your land," Gann could not help but comment, casting a look at Blake's kite-shaped Tower Shield.

"Also some Gauntlets Khelgar would like," continued Neeshka, pausing and then trailing off, "if he was here, and if he'd become a monk… and if we'd not found the Gauntlets of Ironfist. But there is this Katana."

"That does look a fine sword, and I trust your judgement," Blake said, peering at it, "though would be hard for me to get used to the difference in balance or you to the extra weight so… erk."

"Harbour-boy?" asked Neeshka with sudden concern as Blake winced and his hand came up to his chest.

"Some sort of resonance," Blake replied as he straightened and held his hand out, "some part of the magic on this seems to almost hunger."

"I did notice the effect on old father bear of the swords wielded by those undead," commented Gann, "so…"

"So, can you pass me one of those please darling," Blake said to Neeshka, transferring the Katana to his shield-arm hand.

With visible reluctance Neeshka took one out of her magic bag and handed it over. Blake took it in his sword-hand and for a moment under her worried gaze he closed his eyes and his hands made slight up-and-down weighing motions. Then he nodded and held the Undead's sword out to Neeshka. She took it back and was stowing it away in her bag again, having noticed that Blake had transferred the Katana back to his sword-hand, when without warning Blake twisted like a discus thrower. The Katana went whirling off into the darkness.

"Hey! What?" protested Neeshka.

"The undead's sword does drain life from those it strikes," Blake said, reporting what he'd sensed, "but it feels mechanical, like a Golem. That Katana though, there was a malevolence."

"And the last thing our bearded leader needs," added Gann in rare support, "is something else hungering and resonating with his own curse."

"It would have been safe enough in a bag, wholly or partially in a pocket dimension," Neeshka pouted before her sunny nature broke through those clouds and she grinned at Gann. "Besides if you take his side then you don't get these."

Gann looked at the pair of bracers Neeshka had pulled from somewhere and decided trying to figure out how and where she could have hidden them was too hazardous. "Those are quite nice," he commented instead, "and though flesh cannot emulate old father bear's abilities those would help with grazes." Gann paused and smiled and then turned to Blake and said, with transparent insincerity, "Tut-tut. Throwing away a good sword. Shame on you."

"Good enough," Neeshka said, giving Blake a wink and Gann the bracers.

Blake watched as Neeshka gave the containers a final quick rummage before nodding happily to herself. "I wonder if Deekin is still around."

"Deekin?" asked Gann.

"Kobold Bard…" Blake began.

"With an awful singing voice," added Neeshka.

"But enough skill with a pen to have had some books of his adventures published," Blake continued, "and enough loot from those adventures he'd set up a shop first in Neverwinter and then at Crossroad Keep."

"It does seem you might, especially now, have enough for a similar deed," nodded Gann, adding smoothly and with a slight bow to Neeshka, "though of course I would prefer to deal with a lovely lady."

"So she could dazzle you with her smile into giving her a better deal?" Blake asked.

"Or I dazzle her with mine," Gann corrected, with a half-nod.

"True," admitted Blake, "and Deekin would likely have been more immune to even your charms. Still, as much as I think Neeshka could persuade people to buy for more or sell for less and be blessed by Waukeen as well as Sune I'd prefer to pay wages to a shopkeeper and have more of her company."

Neeshka gave Blake a salacious wink. "I can think of more fun things we could be doing than having me stand behind a counter."

"Ah," Gann mused, "but what about if you were sitting _on_ the counter. Possibilities occur…" Gann stopped and, with another half-nod to Blake, smiled and continued to Neeshka. "Though of course they occur to me with some unnamed but attractive shop girl. I shudder at the consequences should I imagine them in relation to you."

"And I shudder at the consequences should they occur to me with that shop girl rather than Neeshka," Blake replied, making her giggle at his expression and the fear he put into his voice.

Neeshka continued to giggle for the several seconds it took them to walk down the wooden walkway and back onto the beach. Without the distraction of Fentomy and his words about the problems of seeing the Slumbering Coven Blake took a brief moment to look around and this time noticed a little flying thing. It seemed to be hovering protectively over a coffin and something about the shape and decoration struck a memory with Blake.

"Darling, does that look as much like a Vampire Coffin to you as it does to me?" Blake asked Neeshka. When she bit her lower lip nervously and nodded Blake explained to the others, "We found some when sallying from Crossroad Keep while it was under threat. Unfortunately for the Vampires their coffins were outside and although it was evening the sun had not yet set."

"Given we are somewhere the sun never rises," Gann commented, "this could be more complicated."

Blake nodded and began to approach the coffin. The little flying thing saw this approach and hurriedly flapped to place itself in Blake's path. This could have been considered either brave or foolish had Blake been alone, but with Okku looming behind him it seemed only foolish.

"Back, back!" the flying thing demanded. "Step away from Count Crowroost, filthy mortal."

"I am no mortal…gnat," growled Okku.

"Your lowly presence will still disturb the Count's slumber," the flying thing said, confirming it was foolish, "and he will awaken, angry and thirsty for your blood!"

"Thirsty for blood…" mused Blake, ignoring Okku's snarl, "definitely a Vampire then. Or something else equally worthy of death."

"You truly do not know the Count?" the flying thing asked in surprise before rallying back to its insults. "Then it is best you remain ignorant! For your sake back away _now_." Then a very faint sound from behind it drew its attention. Its wings whirled to spin it around. "You… what you do?"

Neeshka glanced at the flying thing from where she was crouched by the coffin and then met Blake's eyes. "Lock is fine work harbour-boy. I can jam it temporarily but it could take a while to open it."

"Then let us be less subtle," Okku rumbled, bringing one forepaw off the ground to flex it meaningfully.

"This is no mere coffin!" sneered the flying thing, spinning back to face Okku. "It was carved out of solid Ashenwood pine from a tree containing the essence of a genius loci. It was enchanted by the Count himself and is quite impenetrable." It span again to Neeshka. "And its lock can _only_ be opened from within the coffin."

"Want to bet?" Neeshka smiled confidently back at it.

"I'd never bet against you my dear," said Blake, loosening the straps on his shield and sliding it off his arm, "but for now just jam it please. Hope you are feeling strong today Gann."

"And what raises that question?" Gann asked as Blake strapped his shield onto his back.

"You did say we were somewhere the sun never rose," smiled Blake, "fortunately we have legs and hands."

"And a bear-god," Gann pointed out, "but I suppose our legs and backs and magic may suffice."

Neeshka efficiently jiggled one of her finer lockpicks into the tumblers of the lock so they could not turn. Blake and Gann meanwhile dug a little away at the sand to be able to get their hands underneath and argued about who was getting the heavier end. They heaved and began waddle shuffling towards the portal with their burden, complaining as they did about the footing and the weight of solid pine and that there were normally more pall bearers. Okku rumbled as they made such heavy work of such a light task and Neeshka swatted at the flying thing as it tried to buzz around their faces.

"Curse you for laying brutish hands upon Count Crowroost's coffin," the flying thing screeched, diving in and having to dodge another swat. "When he awakens he will make you suffer!"

"Glad…" Blake grunted, ignoring the threat, "I have this belt…of strength."

"I… myself," replied Gann, his usual eloquence absent, "glad… prayed for extra."

The world shifted around them from the gloom of the Shadow Plane to the orange light of the very early morning sun. Blake nearly lost his balance in surprise and as a boot sunk further than expected into the sand. They staggered on a few more steps. "Down," Blake panted. They lowered the coffin and took several deep breaths each. "Surprised it's just past dawn," commented Blake as he got more breath back, "I was expecting to have to camp a little."

"You _were_ asleep for hours harbour-boy," Neeshka replied.

"Time can flow strangely in dreams," added Gann, "minutes can seem like hours or hours like minutes. But I agree it did seem less time."

Blake glanced up the beach and seeing Fentomy waiting there in his true Dao form made sure his sword was sliding free in its scabbard. Then as the flying thing resumed its position over the coffin and resumed throwing curses at them Blake started walking towards Fentomy. The Dao put a welcoming smile on his face.

"Ah, you've returned", said Fentomy in greeting, "and the Earth Elemental is destroyed."

"You sound surprised," Blake noted, adding, "I hope it would also be a surprise if I told you it was serving a purpose. If I told you that destroying it caused the Skein to begin to collapse."

"Oh, I am sure that is a surprise," commented Gann. "That had we been killed in that collapse he would have gained his 'servant' without needing to pay us is something that _never_ would have occurred to him."

"Which would be fortunate," Okku growled. "My spirit would have reformed in my barrow, but filled with _rage_ at his interference with the oath of a god-of-bears. So that would _not_ have been his intent would it?"

"No, of course not," said Fentomy hurriedly. "You were in there longer than I expected, that's _all_. I assumed the worst, but you are here so here is your reward. Prepared in anticipation of your return."

"Thank you," Blake said, taking the pouch of gold and gems.

"Pleasure doing business with you," added Fentomy with a weak but still smarmy smile, "but now I must return to my home plane to complete preparations for the new arrival. We may meet again, but I doubt it."

With that Fentomy vanished. Blake thought a moment and then lobbed the pouch to Gann, who caught it with a smile. "The adventure is often its own reward," Gann said smoothly, "but some travelling expenses can be welcome."

"Or a bit more than expenses," Neeshka grinned, winking at Blake.

"Which this Sunken City has certainly provided," replied Blake, with a small smile in return before he looked concerned and back at Gann. "My friend, you do understand that if there is anything we find that you want…"

"That I just need to speak up," Gann said, finishing Blake's sentence. "Be assured I would, but you have paid for the supplies so I have incurred little expense and with the hospitality people show me my needs are not great. I do trust that if there is something I need, or want, you would give that consideration."

"I would," confirmed Blake, "and I have, at least, a rough idea how much gold would be your fair share of what Neeshka has gathered. Assuming Okku needs none and that would be a third rather than quarter." Okku rumbled in confirmation and Blake looked back at the noisy flying thing and the coffin. "But another matter to be dealt with first."

"I could open that," Neeshka said, her gaze following her harbour-boy's, "need my finest picks and some trial-and-error, but I'd get it open."

"No you wouldn't!" hissed the flying thing.

"Would too," Neeshka responded, winking again at Blake.

"Would not!" replied the flying thing, falling into the trap.

"I think your mate would win this complex argument," Okku rumbled in amusement, "but little-one, little-ones, I suggest you take hold again and put that foul creature's coffin beneath that ridge. A head or so to the left of that clump of plants."

Blake glanced at that ridge at the rear of the beach and then at Okku. There seemed nothing special about that point but there was an area of disturbed sand further along beneath that ridge to their right. That disturbed sand looked to be a nest of giant beetles and if the undead meat was attractive to them or they simply wanted to clear the obstruction then the gnawing of their mandibles and the effect of whatever fire or acid they had might wear through this coffin. But Okku was already padding away and he seemed to have an idea so, with a sigh for the weight he was going to have to lift again, Blake moved to obey. A moment later Gann joined him and they lifted and staggered again, feet sliding in the dry sand as Neeshka protected them from the annoyance of the flying thing.

They reached where it seemed Okku indicated and, hoping the bear-god had meant the length of his own great head, Blake started to lower the coffin. Then he stopped and smiled to Gann at the other end. "Twist," Blake said, letting one hand drop far more than the other.

Gann nodded and they dropped the coffin so it rolled from their grasp and landed on its lid. Neeshka smiled and trotted in to retrieve her lockpick now it was no longer needed to jam the lock. There was a slight thud within the coffin as its contents settled.

"You…you…" the flying thing said incredulously. "You not only carry the Count, you tumble and drop him? He will make you pay for this. Once it gets dark."

"He might not get the chance," Blake said, glancing at the ridgeline and backing away with gestures to the others to do likewise.

Slowly a great boulder lurched into view as it rolled closer and closer to the edge of the ridge. The lip of grass across the top of the ridge sagged slightly under the weight with sand breaking away from the face and sliding down onto the beach. Whether the boulder came off the edge of the ridge or simply close enough that edge collapsed the effect was the same. The huge rock fell several feet, revealing the form of Okku behind it and landing squarely on top of the coffin. Solid Ashenwood pine it might have been but it still splintered and split along the lines of its grain as it flattened in the middle under the impact and each end fanned out.

Tendrils of smoke began to drift out from within the coffin as sunlight entered where the wood had been forced far enough apart. Blake could not be sure but he thought this Count Crowroost might have been unlucky that his coffin was so solid. Something built from planks of wood would have split along those joins and if planks had popped free then those wider gaps could have admitted enough light to swiftly kill him. How the single carved piece of wood had split was not giving him so merciful a death.

The boulder swayed as Crowroost struggled and tried to push it aside. Even crushed as he was within his coffin he still had enough of his unnatural strength to make the attempt and as much damage as the boulder had done it was at least blocking the sun where it lay on him. But this was to no avail as Crowroost found his arms crunching through the lid of his coffin and piercing into the sand rather than pushing him up against the weight. Frantically he tried to twist and either wobble the rock off him or turn where his spine was already powder so he could reach behind himself to try to get a grip.

Blake looked at the smoke and the movements of the coffin. Some of the wood was beginning to blacken a little as it was scorched by the flames sunlight created from Vampire flesh but this was taking a while. Letting Crowroost slowly burn might honour Kossuth and purification by fire but so would him burning more swiftly and something did not need to be worthy of mercy for you to show mercy to it. Besides this was boring. Now the coffin was split perhaps it would be possible to widen those splits to admit more light or use magic, or flint and tinder, to add to the flames.

Then the Vampire's struggles made intervention unnecessary. The boulder had been a little on edge and now it toppled, but rather than fall off him it fell to one side to flatten his legs. The splits at the head end of the coffin fanned out and spread wider and even more sunlight flooded in as Crowroost's pained writhing added to the damage done to his coffin. Wood could take a while to start burning as it had to warm up first but the unburied part of the coffin swiftly reached and passed that point. Crowroost began to scream as both sunlight and the flames of his burning coffin consumed his flesh. If the flames and smoke were intense then that burned him, if those became less intense then the smoke no longer blocked the sunlight and that burned him. The flying thing also screamed and spontaneously caught fire as the link that had let it share its master's invulnerability let it also share its master's fate.

It did not take long for the available fuel of coffin wood and cloth padding and Vampire flesh and clothes to be consumed and after a pause Blake crossed to look at the blackened wood and bone sticking out from the edge of the boulder. Foul smoke had smeared a path up the side of that rock and small cracks had appeared from the intensity of the heat. Neeshka joined him and tilted her head slightly as she tried to decide if she had seen a glint of something. Noticing this as the undead remains held little interest to him compared with the aesthetic pleasure of a lady in the light of the dawn Gann smiled.

"I think a concoction of undead flesh and pinewood," Gann commented, "all burnt from burning each other would be even less 'clean' than that Ogre's chainmail."

"The ashes of the furnace were quite unpleasant," added Blake, turning to his sweetheart, "and things there had long since become nothing but powder and metal eyelets and buckles and tiny fragments of teeth and bone and the like."

Neeshka nodded reluctantly. She was not enthusiastic about the idea of trying to search the small part of that corpse that was not out of reach under the boulder. It did look rather repellent and she did agree that bodies that had been thoroughly cremated were less foul than those that had been burned less completely. But it was the principle of the thing. From how the boulder had moved this had been a powerful Vampire and, if the flying thing had not been lying, also a Noble one so if any of its possessions had survived they could be rare and valuable. Passing on that chance rubbed Neeshka's instincts the wrong way.

But she shrugged and followed Blake as he started towards the path from the beach back towards the Golden Way. This was not the first chance they'd passed on and though she _could_ have taken all those things from the barrow her harbour-boy had probably been right to suggest leaving the interesting looking vases and skeletons in the Death God's Vault alone and not take Dalenka at her word and clear out that garrison's stores. Even without those chances, and even before they came here, they'd still been doing well enough that Neeshka had been frustrated they'd not found anywhere her harbour-boy could spend some of that gold on pampering her as she deserved.

It did not take long to reach the Golden Way and then the first shelter back towards Mulsantir. Okku glanced at the Tiefling and decided to speak. "Hrrr, little-one," he rumbled, continuing when he had Blake's attention, "I need no sleep, and you and the Hagspawn at least had your bodies drowse while you fought in dreams, but your mate remained alert and awake the whole time."

"Then we shall rest a few hours."

"I'm fine, harbour-boy," Neeshka protested, "been awake longer than this before, so no need to be over-protective."

"True," admitted Blake, "but the same was true in the Chamber of Dreamers." Neeshka frowned prettily so Blake explained. "Where you were being over-protective by not leaving the guard duty to Okku."

"For myself a short break to at least break our fast would be welcome," Gann added diplomatically, "and a little cleaning of armour before the various residues set too hard might be wise."

Neeshka still looked annoyed at Okku. There was a difference between being pampered when things were safe and having Blake delay their journey by thinking she was too fragile to easily resist the effects of one sleepless night. She liked him being considerate of her and she liked claiming to be 'kind of' delicate but she didn't want him going too far as often there were better ways than sleeping to spend a night. But if they were all determined to rest then she had to admit that some food, some cleaning, and a few hours snuggled with her harbour-boy did sound good.

There was not much firewood to be found near the shelter as that area had been well picked over by other travellers. Fortunately a little gold bought a lot of firewood at market and the few twigs they found supplemented a bundle from Blake's magic bag nicely. Soon they had a little fire going and a stew bubbling over it while Blake scrubbed a little at the helmet and plates he'd removed and Gann frowned with distaste at the stains on his own leather armour. Neeshka, as befitted her grace, had managed to avoid almost all the gore despite her sword being shorter than Blake's and far shorter than Gann's spear. So lacking the need to do as much cleaning she took charge of the stew and it was quite cosy and domestic as Neeshka ladled out the stew into thirds and got smiles in return. A while of the scrape of spoons in bowls passed before Blake belched slightly, muttered 'pardon', and put his bowl to one side to reach into his pack.

Withdrawing the rough map he'd been able to buy Blake unrolled and glanced at it and nodded. "Hmm, does look like the path to these 'Wells of Lurue' would take us close to or past Mulsantir, so we may as well revisit the town. Unless Gann or Okku know of a shorter unmarked path?"

"That didn't work out so well when the tree-worshipper guided us off the road," Neeshka reminded him, "had to fight all those maddened animals…"

"The spirits could guide me more directly, perhaps," added Gann, swallowing a mouthful of stew first, "but my inclination is to stay with roads where people and their dreams may be encountered."

"And I could find my way there through any obstacle in my path," Okku rumbled from where he was watching the road rather than watch the mortals eat. "But I remember enough of flesh to know how difficult such a route could be for those that sleep and tire."

Blake nodded and rolled the map back up, putting it away and picking his stew back up. "Roads then," he said, before taking a mouthful of stew to chew and swallow as he thought. "Probably better for another reason as well. I have confidence that with your aid, all of you, this curse shall be ended… but in case not, in case we fail…"

"We are _not_ going to fail, little one," Okku interrupted. "This curse _will_ end."

"It would still be good to leave a record of what we've learned," continued Blake. "The Sunken Coven are _certainly_ in no position to answer any more questions and if the Wood Man again needed aid before he could share his knowledge then someone without such valiant allies as you might not be able to manage."

"If… you intend to leave such information with the Witches then I would caution you," Gann said thoughtfully. "You have seen how some of them have reacted to you, it would only take one Witch of that mindset to decide this was 'tainted knowledge' to be burned rather than preserved."

"True enough, and I was not thinking of only leaving one copy," Blake admitted, taking his final spoonful of stew before continuing. "Who other than Sheva Whitefeather, and the Wood Man if we travel to Ashenwood again, could be trusted with the knowledge though I will have to think on."

"Soooo…" wheedled Neeshka. "You're talking about sharing what you have learned, so share. What happened between you going glassy eyed and us having to fight those Hags anyway?"

Blake reached into his pack again. "Well, one thing was seeing a vision of Bishop encased in the Wall of the Faithless, he had another fragment of that mask." Blake jiggled the two fragments and nodded as their edges matched. "Looks like more to be found," he added, before continuing with a brief expression of distaste, "and that it will be a hideous mask when complete…"

"That looks like what pops out of you," Neeshka commented.

"What?" said Blake, his brow creasing in surprise.

"When you use your spirit eater powers a thing appears behind you with writhing tentacles," Gann replied, adding with a smile, "but I suppose that is _behind_ you so you would not have seen."

"I had the impression, out of the corner of my eyes, of some sort of arms waving about," nodded Blake, "but it is hard to know what I actually see and what are the images being conjured by the sensations of the curse. Like what you say of dreams Gann, what is truth and what is metaphor? Still, if this mask does bear a resemblance to that then that suggests a connection."

"You found something else," Neeshka pointed out, with her eye for loot, "new Bow?"

"New bow," Blake confirmed, "though it could shift to other weapons. There was a dream of a deserted Inn and when I won enough games against that fat fellow it broke his imprisonment there and I found it in my pack." He passed the bow over to Neeshka to examine. "I tried a few other forms but it makes a nice bow and the dream was otherwise insignificant."

Neeshka deftly strung the bow and then raised an eyebrow in surprise as an arrow appeared when she fiddled with the bowstring. "I thought I told you about bows like this…"

"And quite memorably too," Gann smiled, "almost as soon as he found this bow he mentioned your advice."

"And that these arrows are excellent ones, which I confirmed as the Dreamscape of the Wall was the one after the Inn, and this bow worked well enough on a Pit Fiend there."

"I wonder if we could set up a stall selling arrows…" Neeshka smiled.

"Which would be all profit," nodded Gann, "since he paid for that, as he kindly pointed out, with my boredom rather than his coin."

"Unfortunately," Blake said, taking the bow back, "these arrows vanish if not loosed or they might have fetched a high price."

"Boo!" said Neeshka, looking down as the arrow lying across her palm lost focus around its edges and shimmered slightly as it vanished. "But who wants honest work anyway. Still, so you saw Bishop and you rescued the fat guy… what else?"

Blake looked thoughtfully at the bow for a moment before reaching into his pack for a quiver of arrows and replying. "That Wizard, Faras, was trying to get out of an Infernal contract. We helped by pointing out that one condition had been met due to the Devil's interpretation of a wish, so as that had not been Faras' free will the contract was void."

"And, as that second Mind Flayer realised, we also entered the Mind Flayer's prison and killed him," Gann added. "Though our first dreamscape was of the Veil Theatre where they were putting on a play based on the Betrayer's Crusade."

"True," agreed Blake, looking annoyed as he found putting an arrow on the bowstring did not prevent one from materialising. Some people could loose more than one arrow at a time but he wasn't one of them and he didn't think you could form the special grip required for that if one of the arrows within it only appeared partway through the draw. "That they had reserved the part of the Betrayer for me did fit with all else about this curse and Akachi being connected."

"And there was the dream of that gate," Gann said as Blake put the arrows away.

"Aye, a dream of a Gate that leads to the Fugue Plane and the City of Judgement. The surroundings seemed to be those of the Death God's Vault in Shadow Mulsantir and what the dream-creatures said there further confirmed this curse is the punishment Myrkul was so proud of inflicting on Akachi."

"Indeed, as did our communication with the Coven before we woke them," nodded Gann before looking to Okku and Neeshka. "Both the Coven's own words and those of the dream-memories they showed us of Lienna and Nefris said the curse was Myrkul's creation and only he would know how to end it."

"They seemed confident they could find a way to speak with him, though those efforts might have been what got them killed. And I might have been wrong about their reasons for inflicting the curse on me."

"Explain, little one," rumbled Okku in mild surprise. "Your idea made sense, weaken Rashemen by unleashing the spirit-eater once more."

"Yes, but if they were being honest," Blake replied, "and the Coven did not alter what they showed…"

"The dream-memories were truthful," confirmed Gann.

"Then Lienna and Nefris sought a way to _end_ the curse," Blake finished, "not a way to use it as a weapon."

"End it?" repeated Okku in disbelief. "By _freeing_ it?"

"It can make sense god-of-bears," Gann argued smoothly. "Although the curse was trapped it was not dying… not coming to an end."

"And some of the memories I have seen or dreamed are not of my own mind," added Blake, poking at the campfire with a stick as he thought. "The Gate through which the Betrayer's Crusade passed is nothing I have seen, though it was similar to the one Kaelyn spent so much time staring at."

"And have a similar key," Gann reminded him. "A replica of the Sword of Gith to open the replica of the Gate, and the true sword to open the true gate."

"It does seem unlikely Akachi had two silver swords," nodded Blake, "so more reason to try to recover it."

"And another reason for them to have cut you open, harbour-boy," Neeshka scowled at the memory.

"Not the first people to try to tear the shard from me," shrugged Blake. "To try to get all the pieces, including that one."

"Leave them in pieces too," Neeshka muttered, "like that wrinkly Githyanki."

"But anyway," Blake continued, letting his sweetheart mutter and harbour bloody thoughts. "With those memories, and having met echoes of previous hosts during the Mosstone dream, it seems possible that all the time the curse was trapped in your barrow Okku there might also have been an echo of Akachi trapped in it. An echo they might be trying to give the release of death to."

"The Red Woman we saw in the dream of the Gate looked very similar to the one in the Mosstone dream," added Gann, gesturing to Blake, "and I am sure he also noted how much she also resembled Lienna and Nefris."

"And that the Red Woman claimed the Betrayer's Crusade was waged for her," nodded Blake, "for the love Akachi bore her. So if Akachi was condemned for their ancestor they may have an inherited obligation to try to help him. However they may also have inherited an enemy trying to prevent this and to hunt them down. In the dream of the Gate we also saw a man called Araman, who claimed both that he was Akachi's brother and that until he had corrected his brother's mistakes he would continue to live."

"So might be more to the coup than just Red Wizards being Red Wizards," mused Neeshka, "though not sure he has much motivation for success…"

"Presumably there would be some punishment if he tried remain undying by leaving a mistake uncorrected," Blake suggested thoughtfully, "and undying might not mean unaging. He might have to try to complete the task before he becomes too frail from age, even with his magic, to have any chance of more success."

"And be trapped in an ever more decrepit body for eternity?" shuddered Gann. "That sounds almost as nasty as that Wall, though on second thought at least the Wall of the Faithless might end the suffering quicker."

"The names could be a coincidence," Blake admitted. "I don't know how common a name 'Araman' is but it does seem if Araman was hunting the Red Woman then he'd also hunt her descendants."

"It does seem unfair to pass the sins of the mother on to the child," commented Gann, "and I speak as one with personal experience of such."

"I agree, or in my sweet Neeshka's case the sins of her grandfather. It could just be that Araman would wish to prevent them ending his brother's punishment since that was ordained by their god. What I did wonder though was if without the Crusade the Red Woman would have died childless."

"Ah," breathed Gann. "So as her being rescued to have children would be a result of this Crusade their existence might be considered a 'mistake' to be corrected?"

"And the existence of their children, and their children's children, and so on down through the centuries. I doubt Araman would be concerned with those who are ignorant of their ancestor but that could still be a lot of people. Though this is assuming the dream is true and there is a centuries-old wizard out there trying to make up for having supported his brother rather than his god. Even now his god is dead and his brother nothing but an echo within a curse."

"The dream did seem true," Gann replied, dashing Blake's faint hopes. "Whether it was memories drawn from the curse or insight drawn from the impressions those minds have left on the dreaming world I do not know, but I believe this Araman does exist in the form the dream suggested."

"Then… we have a problem," said Blake, briefly pinching the brow of his nose and getting a reassuring hand on his shoulder from Neeshka. Patting her hand where it lay he continued. "They have been feuding for centuries, had that long to build their power, personal and political and military. Tymorra willing we will be lucky and they will have been also been destroying each other's power rather than simply building and waiting."

"You hope it was a bloody victory for Araman, his coup?" Gann asked.

"Aye, that if that was the same Araman that it cost him dear," nodded Blake, "despite Nefris being distracted by her actions against me."

"And against me," grumbled Okku, eyes whirling in anger. "She undid the actions and sacrifices of a god-of-bears! If not for her Nakata would _not_ have fallen prey to your unknowing hunger."

"You think she spent enough time and effort on this plot to have left herself vulnerable?" Gann asked again.

"I hope her efforts against me at least helped to get her killed," Blake said sourly, adding when he saw Neeshka pout, "I know my dear, you wanted her to live long enough for you to kill her yourself."

"A feeling I shared," Okku growled deeply.

Blake nodded. "I must admit I'd have preferred to do more than just hear of her death."

There was a moment or two of silence before Gann glanced at the other three. "I don't know why you are looking at me. It was not my sacrifice she spoiled, nor my love she kidnapped, nor me she had cursed." He paused again in thought. "I have seen how this curse has eaten at you Blake, I know how it could have affected the spirits of the land had you not been so stalwart in fighting it, and I sympathise with you all that you did not get to kill her yourselves. But I am just glad she is dead… if she is."

"Aye, that is the important thing. That she dies and not whether this is by our hand or by Araman's," Blake agreed, ignoring the almost matching noises of disagreement from Okku and Neeshka. "Confirming her death would be an argument for doing what the Slumbering Coven suggested, using the portal in Lienna's secret room to travel to Thay and that Academy."

"What other choice do we have?" asked Gann. "If we need to speak to whatever remains of Myrkul then any clues to why Nefris was so confident she could achieve this would be in her Academy."

"Clues, or even perhaps detailed records, if Araman has not destroyed them," Blake agreed, before continuing. "But also an entire Academy full of Red Wizards. Teachers skilled or lucky enough to survive their infighting and students that, even if they only know minor magics, would be dangerous with their numbers."

"Didn't seem that lucky or skilled in the barrow," Neeshka pointed out, with the satisfaction of memory.

Blake started to reply and then paused as he tried to think of how to say what he wanted to say. Modesty aside he knew how powerful his magic was compared with before he left West Harbour. Having to use it extensively almost every day and having the threat of death to motivate study and practice had made his progress quite rapid despite splitting his time between that and martial training and he owed Tarmas a lot for the solid foundation on which this had been built. Nevertheless it did make him concerned how powerful the Red Wizards might be. Within their Academy they would also practice every day and have the threat of death as a motivation. Moreover from what Blake had heard of Red Wizards they were very focussed in their studies. Not only would they have not spent time on martial training but, rather than be a generalist and spread their studies to whatever caught their attention, they specialised in one school of magic and then specialised again. That might limit the magic they could learn but it did also make them a lot more powerful in using the remaining spells. This could be very painful.

"I know, I know," Neeshka said, seeing Blake's expression and rolling her eyes a little. "One lone and unsuspecting Red Wizard is much easier to kill, with the advantage of surprise, than others might be in their own Academy. And especially with them having had a coup recently."

"They would be sleeping even lighter than usual," nodded Blake, "but to answer Gann's question the other choice would be Neverwinter. If speaking to Myrkul would be possible it is also possible someone else might have achieved something similar, and that record of such might be somewhere in the extensive libraries of the Mage Academy or the Many Starred Cloaks."

"Or it might not be," Gann commented, "or the answer might be too incomplete."

"Even if it is only a partial answer," nodded Blake again, "that may be enough for the Mages of Neverwinter, whether through Lord Nasher's order or through the challenge of solving the problem, to duplicate Nefris' research. Oghma has blessed them with much knowledge in using Mystra and Azuth's gifts of magic."

"Or it may not be," Neeshka said, echoing Gann slightly in her scepticism, "and we are hardly on good terms with the Mage Academy there."

"That is one way of putting it," Blake chuckled, before looking at Gann and Okku. "You remember me speaking of Qara?"

Okku looked blank as he had still been outside Mulsantir with his army then but Gann, with his memory for ladies names, nodded. "Ah yes," he said smoothly, "the girl who ignored her instructors but, for _some_ reason, listened to you."

"And I still maintain that reason was because it was good advice and I was careful in how I phrased it, I tried to explain the reasons behind what I was saying. Even so she could be hard to speak to as the talent she had… _has_ I hope…in the arcane arts made her rather disdainful of those less blessed."

"Yes," Gann replied, frowning slightly as he dug into his memory, "and I seem to recall she was disdainful enough she was expelled from that Academy and then subject to attacks from former classmates. I think you are understating the challenge, as you tend to do."

"I _never_ said it was easy and, aye, she had made many enemies there, including one of the Magisters there. His daughter had been one of those students and had been involved in the first fight I stopped by, as a member of the City Watch, threatening to arrest his daughter for causing a public disturbance."

"I am sure that went down very well with him," Gann smiled. "Some Watchman telling his daughter what to do."

"He did seem outraged that I expected _his daughter_ to abide by the laws of the city," agreed Blake, adding. "The Gods only know how outraged he'd have been if she'd not backed down and I had put her in a cell." Blake paused and one corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. "Come to think of it that cell would have been in the City Watch building in the Docks. So she'd have been in there when it was burned down and that would have increased his anger even if she'd survived."

"Hmm, from what you said he already seemed near as implacable as old father-bear," mused Gann, "but that might have made things worse."

"Was not my fault his daughter was breaking the law."

"Was not _our_ fault the students were stupid enough to try to kill Qara while she was travelling with us," added Neeshka.

"From our travels that does seem stupid," Gann smiled, "you make a formidable team."

"Don't sell your contribution short my friend, or that of Okku," chided Blake, "_we_ make a formidable team."

"Thank you little-one," rumbled Okku, "But as little patience as I have for this mutual congratulation I would remind you that you and your mate did defeat me. I was not at full strength, true, but that still shows the Hagspawn was just as correct as you."

"In any case, the Mage Academy has reason, as Neeshka said, to dislike me for arresting their students for public brawling and assault with deadly intent against an Officer of the Watch. Both that I did arrest them and that I showed how poorly they had been taught that I did survive _to_ arrest them."

"I was going to say that your survival, even with your skill, argued against your caution regarding the Red Wizard students," Gann commented. "You seem to have some contempt for your own town's Mage Academy?"

Blake shrugged. "Perhaps I listened too much to Qara, and her attitude rubbed off. But her complaints about how much time they spent in the libraries had the opposite effect of confirming the extent of those."

"I doubt they would be open to you though, or that the Mages there would be willing to help. Your beloved did raise a good point."

"True enough they might not be happy to help, or open their libraries to us," Blake agreed. "But whether they are happy or not is irrelevant. Threatening a Lieutenant of the City Watch is trouble enough without refusing when that same Lieutenant, now a Knight of Neverwinter and member of the Neverwinter Nine after personally saving Lord Nasher's life, asks for help. Lord Nasher would support me in my request."

"Whoa there harbour-boy," whistled Neeshka, "don't be too sure of that. You know Nasher has no problem with not repaying debts, story of the Hero of Neverwinter ring any bells?"

"Not with us, so please explain," Gann said, giving her an enquiring look and eyebrow lift.

"Well, the way I heard it… there was this guy," explained Neeshka. "There was a plague and he'd arrived when they put out a call for adventurers to help search for clues to where it had come from. He'd survived an attack on where the adventurers were staying and then recovered the ingredients for the plague cure and then recovered the plague cure itself when it was stolen. Then he uncovered a plot against Neverwinter and… well, he did a lot of things."

"That would be why he was the Hero of Neverwinter," smiled Gann, "I suppose."

Blake nodded. "Even in West Harbour we heard the tales, and how they ended. How he came before Lord Nasher and made his final request. Neverwinter had been saved from both a Luskan invasion and the return of an ancient race of Lizardfolk. Now the city was safe he wanted just one thing, that Lord Nasher spare the fallen Paladin Lady Aribeth so that together they could seek her redemption. After all he had done was that _so_ much to ask?"

"I take it from your tone that it was 'so much' and thus was denied?" Gann asked, without much query in his tone.

"It was. Lady Aribeth had been the leader of the invading army and so Lord Nasher had much to condemn her for," replied Blake. "So he sentenced her to death. Just as he had sentenced the man Aribeth loved, a cleric of Tyr called Fenthick, when all he had been guilty of was stupidity rather than actual treason. That Lord Nasher had broken faith with Aribeth first did not change that she had taken up arms against Neverwinter."

"You think he should have shown _mercy_?" Okku growled, his tone conveying his attitude towards traitors.

"I think that if your own actions destroy someone's loyalty to you, if insisting that their lover be buried in the Tomb of the Betrayers…"

"We had to fight Fenthick's ghost in there," Neeshka interjected.

"And the Church of Tyr agreeing to this, despite Fenthick being betrayed rather than betrayer," continued Blake, "is what destroyed their faith in Tyr's justice then you need to consider where true blame lies. I cannot say I would have decided differently as the law _is_ the law but Lord Nasher did owe Lady Aribeth and Fenthick some gratitude for their past services and owed the Hero of Neverwinter a great deal more. More perhaps than he owes me."

"Asking to be let into a library does not seem as severe a request as asking for someone to not be executed," Gann commented.

"I agree that I'd not be asking for as much but I think Neeshka is right," frowned Blake. "Lord Nasher would sacrifice me, despite what I have done for him, if he decided the Mage Academy was more important to helping him maintain his power. Politics has little room for gratitude or sentiment."

"Remember how Sir Nevalle reacted when you were summoned to Neverwinter?" Neeshka asked.

"Ah, yes," recalled Blake sourly, "I asked what this summons was about…"

"And he told you Crossroad Keep could have a new Captain by Nightfall," nodded Neeshka, still offended on her harbour-boy's behalf.

"So the effort and the gold I had put into rebuilding the keep," continued Blake, "and a simple question intended so I could judge how long I would be absent and what orders I needed to leave was repaid with threats rather than appreciation. On the other hand that threat possibly came from _Nevalle_ rather than _Nasher_ as the reason for the summons _was_ so I could be knighted."

"That does seem contradictory, a threat of removal on the eve of promotion," Gann agreed, "but in any case you returning to Neverwinter would take your curse to the Sword Coast and supposes the research of Nefris to be duplicable. You have said it yourself; these people have been warring for centuries so it could be it would take decades or longer to discover what Nefris already has."

"True, though it might still have to be done," mused Blake. "My studies of the arcane have focussed more on those spells useful in combat so if we do go to Thay we might still need help deciphering what we find. Of course that does also mean we might need less help to fight our way to finding those clues."

"You have a God-of-Bears as an ally," Okku rumbled, "what other help do you think you need?"

"Besides, we don't necessarily have to fight," Neeshka pointed out. "I managed to sneak in there and to the window of the Headmistress' tower."

"Unfortunately the rest of us are not as skilled in those arts, my sweet," Blake said with a fond proud smile. "Besides although I have no doubt that you could get in and out and take any item in that Academy there is the problem that we don't know what we are looking for exactly. We'd need to make a thorough search."

"Well," grinned Neeshka to Blake as she pulled some Red Wizard robes out of her pack, "I wonder what you would look like beardless and with a shaved head and tattoos. Might make a change."

"If it comes to that I could enter alone and unarmed and unarmoured," Blake nodded. "I have enough magic I'd not be helpless, unfortunate as it is that none of you could also try passing for Red Wizards. I doubt we could use makeup to alter Gann's skin tone enough, Okku is obvious, and Neeshka has her lovely perky horns…"

Neeshka's grin faltered and was replaced by concern as Blake took her suggestion seriously. "Joke! I was teasing you harbour-boy… do you really think I'd let you do that?"

"Maybe not," Blake admitted before adding, "but do you really think I'd be unwilling to do it if it would spare you danger?"

The two looked at each other for a moment and then with one quick gesture Neeshka threw the Red Wizard robes onto the campfire. These were still folded so they did not burn that well and at first it appeared more likely that they would smother the small fire instead. Then smoke began to rise from the weave of the cloth and from between the folds and suddenly the shelter became more brightly lit as flames began curling up around the edges.

"Not happening," Neeshka said with satisfaction, watching this. "Think of something else, and I _don't_ mean where to find another set of robes."

"At least we do have time to consider," replied Blake, using a stick to poke some burning cloth back inside the ring of campfire stones. "We have some travelling and whatever we find at the Wells of Lurue to deal with. And though I have faith in Okku's might I'd prefer if we could get even more help before trying to kill an entire Thayan Academy. Perhaps the Witches or the Berserkers would provide aid, take the chance to strike at Thay…"

"They would appreciate the chance, but their involvement could heat the war up again," Gann said, ignoring Okku's 'harrumph' at the idea of needing more help. "And we would need to inform them of the portal if we are to travel that way, which would reveal Lienna's link to Nefris, a Red Wizard and enemy of Rashemen. That would do Lienna no harm, _now_, but could cause trouble for Magda and her actors for being associated with Lienna."

"Aye, and I did say that I would keep their secret if they kept mine," Blake nodded slowly. "They do seem to have been Lienna's cover rather than her co-conspirators so I'd not want them exiled or imprisoned or killed. But I have doubts how innocent they are, how much they suspected and could have told the Witches, so as much as Lord Nasher would sacrifice me I think I would sacrifice them for Okku's oath. If needed."


	15. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The conversation had wound down and they had settled around the fire. Okku naturally did not sleep but Blake and Gann also found it difficult since as weary as they were in mind their bodies had rested. Blake had the advantage of having been taught the importance for a soldier of taking sleep when you could. He also though had a devoted and happily sleeping Tiefling snuggled to him and her weight on his arm and her head on his chainmail covered chest did stop him shifting position. Worse still, perhaps, even through their armour the feel of her against him did make it difficult to calm his thoughts and relax into sleep.

Eventually Blake dozed a little while Gann chatted very quietly with Okku, relaxing his thoughts to idle conversation and his body to languor rather than actual sleep. The sun had risen to its full height before they broke camp and continued on the rest of the day before camping again. Blake spent some time by the light of a spell on writing down the thoughts he had sorted during the walk. This time he and Gann were tired enough by the walking to have less trouble with sleep despite Neeshka snuggling the former and Gann's tendency to wax poetic and at length. Dawn had come again and having reclaimed his arm and chest Blake had managed to get dressed and strap his plates back on over his chainmail.

He looked rather tentative and then with visible determination began an arcane incantation. Ignoring this as they were used to his routine the others were startled when Blake exclaimed in triumph and looked so happy at his success. For a moment they just looked at each other, exchanging glances of mutual puzzlement, before Okku rumbled and shifted the gaze of his yellow eyes to Blake.

"You seem unusually happy little-one, very proud of casting a spell for one so used to it."

Blake nodded. "Mystra has blessed me. You know each day I take off the chainmail I slept in to cast the spells that persist all day?"

"Yes," Gann smiled, "after all these days we had noticed you getting unarmoured before getting armoured again."

"This time I tried _after_ I put my plates over the chainmail I slept in," grinned Blake.

Okku just looked puzzled but Neeshka jumped at Blake and into his arms. This was not much excuse but she was willing to take any for a celebratory kiss. Blake's arms automatically enfolded her and he wished a little that he'd not donned his breastplate already. You could not feel much through chainmail but it did flex and bend in a little so he'd have felt more of the specifics of where Neeshka was pressing against him rather than just a general pressure. Their heads were still bare though so her full lips were available and, even had he wanted to resist, she had a surprising amount of strength in her slender arms and fingers and was determined to use this to bring his face to hers.

"Congratulations," Gann said eventually. He'd waited for Neeshka to finish occupying Blake's lips with her own partially out of politeness, partially because he was sure Blake would not have been listening while engaged in such, and partially because you could not speak to reply while your mouth was otherwise engaged.

"Thank you," Blake replied, looking down at Neeshka still nestled in his arms and brushing a kiss over her forehead between her perky horns.

"But," added Gann, "although it has served the purpose of getting you kissed I admit I am unsure why you were so jubilant. I do recall your magic, unlike mine, is affected by those great lumps of metal but you have seemed to be overcoming that problem. Quite often and very consistently in fact."

Blake took a deep breath to gather his thoughts and tried to ignore how this swelled his chest against Neeshka's. "There are ways to manipulate spells," he explained as she gave him a little squeeze back, "exert yourself more to make them more powerful or less random in their power, to make them last longer, to…" He paused and reluctantly moved one gauntlet-covered hand off Neeshka to hold it up a little. "Avoid the need to make the gestures."

"Ah," nodded Gann in understanding, "and like a biscuit is twice-cooked so was that spell. Both to avoid the gestures and to make it last all day."

"Exactly," Blake nodded, returning his hand to Neeshka, "though you might have been right in your first reaction. Many spells all I can do is make it last twice as long, and in some ways is better to have two spells rather than one that lasts longer."

"Always difficult to decide between having two 'spells' or having it last twice as long…" grinned Neeshka salaciously, looking up at her harbour-boy.

"Are you still talking about magic?" Gann asked dryly.

Neeshka wriggled in Blake's arms a little to turn enough to look over her shoulder and wink at him. "I think so," she said before putting on an expression of shock and an innocent tone into her voice. "Why? Whatever else could I have meant?"

"The mind boggles," smiled Gann.

"Er…ahem," Blake blinked.

"You do realise you don't need to master new arcane skills to get a kiss don't you?" said Neeshka, admiring how Blake was gently blushing.

Blake gave her a last quick hug and then stepped back before she could protest or clamp on harder. "But you do realise that is extra motivation?"

"I think students of magic would study harder if all were thus motivated," Gann teased.

"Study harder perhaps," Blake admitted, squirming slightly as a disadvantage of kissing in full armour made itself known. "But perhaps not with greater success as it does seem to hinder rational thought. I needed to not have her in my arms before I could think clearly enough to realise that it took the same degree of extra power to avoid the gesturing as it does to make the spells last twice as long."

"So your lady _will_ be happy," said Gann with a friendly leer and wiggle of his eyebrows. "Now with your new biscuit skill for the same effort you can have two spells that _both_ last twice as long."

Calmly and with great dignity Neeshka stuck her tongue out at Gann like a street urchin. Even Okku rumbled very slightly in amusement at the antics of the mortals despite his impatience for the delays they caused with their sleeping and eating and resting and bantering. This amusement did not allay his concern though. In some ways it might have been better had the hunger found someone with less loyalty in his heart. Someone who would be coldly using allies to free himself of the curse rather than loving one and, it seemed, becoming good friends with another. Memories were still fleeting but he was confident he had sacrificed deeply for his oath and the more he saw the less confident he was that Blake would do the same.

The morning passed and the sun began to make its slow way back down towards the horizon though it had not fallen far past its peak before the walls of Mulsantir again came into view. The guards did not give them much of a look as they entered the gates as by now it had become well known the outlander and Gann-of-Dreams were travelling with the mighty-bear-god. Within the city although the people of the city gave them a wide berth this was more due to respect for Okku rather than the fear that had lingered after he had laid siege to them. Soon they had climbed the hill and were approaching the Statues of the Three.

Alerted by the change in the quality of the background hubbub Sheva looked towards the entrance to the Witches area. "You have returned child, what have you to say?"

"The first is that the Slumbering Coven will trouble the dreams of Rashemen no more," Blake replied respectfully. "They answered the questions I had for them and then we served justice for the death of Gann's father and the driving into insanity of Gann's mother."

"That is… good news," replied Sheva, exchanging startled looks with Kazimika. She hesitated a moment in shock before continuing. "The Witches had long considered a strike against those Hags but felt the cost in blood to our Berserkers too high. It is… impressive that you managed to defeat them."

Blake frowned as he noticed the looks and hesitations. "You sound dubious," he almost growled. "Do you think I _lie_? Do you think that, whatever mistrust you still have for me, _Okku_ would agree to such a deception?"

"No child, we do not doubt what you say," Sheva said placatingly. "Merely that had you asked our advice we would have doubted that, even with Okku's aid, you would have had the power to accomplish this… so it came as somewhat of a surprise."

"Realising who they'd be messing with if they messed with _my_ harbour-boy!"

"He did slay many of them," Blake replied to Sheva, ignoring Neeshka's happy mutter, "though they were quite easy prey as weakened as their bodies were by their long slumber. Gann deserves much credit as it was he who managed to disrupt their dream and their protective magics."

"With your help within the dream," demurred Gann, with a slight bow of the head, "and your willpower, despite your doubts over the loss of their knowledge, bolstering mine as I found the links that bound that endless dream together."

"And as weak as the flesh of those Hags was," Okku rumbled, "it would still have been difficult, even for a god-of-bears, to fight through their guards and those that had wished to see them."

Blake nodded to the pair of them and then reached into his pack to withdraw a box. "The other matter is this. We have learned something of this Curse, confirmed various suspicions so it is almost certain it was the creation of Myrkul as his punishment on Akachi the Betrayer. Why the curse still lingers after so long and why it takes new hosts we don't know. However I have gained some insights into how to suppress the hunger and into the history of previous victims."

"You wish us to have this information?" Sheva asked, taking the box. "To pass on if you fail?"

"Or simply for your archives if we succeed," smiled Blake. "But yes, more clues may be found in the Wells of Lurue where we travel to next but we have learned enough for it to be worth leaving some record whether for success or failure."

"I shall keep it safe, child," Sheva nodded, "though, as you do, I hope I shall not need to use it to advise another host."

"Thank you," said Blake politely, before turning to the younger witch. "Oh, and Kazimika, you were wrong about me but if I die and this curse passes to someone else you would almost certainly be right next time… stay suspicious."

With another exchange of half bows and good wishes for the journey Blake and the others departed and began making their way down the hill and past the Berserker Lodge towards the second half of the descent. Gann glanced ahead at the bustle of the marketplace and then at Blake strolling downhill with his hat on his head, his shield on his back, and Neeshka on his arm. There was a slight risk to this as it did part her concealing cloak a little and walking so close to each other did slow their pace but Neeshka was not going to waste the opportunity.

"That was kind of you to forgive her," Gann commented.

For a moment Blake was puzzled until he realised which 'her' Gann meant as the 'her' that came to mind first was the one he was walking arm in arm with. "I would have preferred there to have been nothing to forgive," he replied, after that brief pause, "but the more we learned of previous hosts the more forgivable her attitude became. I'd not want her to over-compensate for the mistake she made with me and extend too much trust to a spirit-eater that might need to be mistrusted."

"As I have said, little-one," rumbled Okku, "that concern is moot; we are _not_ going to fail."

Blake nodded rather than argue. He shared much of the bear-god's confidence but not his contempt for taking a little time to plan for failure. Glancing at the shadows and up at the sun he nodded again. "We still have hours of daylight, so we could make a start…" Neeshka made an appealing noise and pointed, so Blake smoothly finished. "Once we have bought some fresh fruit and freshly cooked cold meats."

A few replacement supplies, and some more perishable snacks, bought they headed out of the gate. Okku disdained the snacks as the meat was not of his own killing and the fruit was something he didn't want to admit to liking. Bears were far more omnivorous than some city dwellers thought and Okku wanted to maintain the image of his snout only ever being stained with blood rather than sometimes with berry juice. The Wells were to the north so they turned left towards the direction from which Neeshka and Blake had first approached the city. The rest of the afternoon and the evening passed peacefully enough and now Okku was their ally rather than a possible pursuer Blake and Neeshka were able to use rather than ignore one of the roadside shelters.

Memories of their journey from Okku's barrow had brought temptation though. As they'd travelled Blake had found himself looking for the small cave and considering suggesting that Gann and Okku use a shelter. They might not have been able to make the narrow entrance to that cave secure against a pursuing bear-god but he was confident they'd be able to make it secure enough that neither of them would need any armour or any other clothing. But Blake had firmly rejected the temptation and it was fortunate that Neeshka was not a mind-reader as she'd have been very frustrated that one of her harbour-boy's main reasons was he didn't want her too tired for the journey or any fighting the next day.

Morning came and Blake managed again to make his morning spells without removing his chainmail. The thought had occurred that as he could cast these in armour he could wait and see if they were needed. But casting them then would take a short time and Blake remembered how much advantage he'd gained in the fights in both dreams and reality by not needing that time and by denying his opponents their chance to prepare. He did decide to leave his persistent _Death Armour_ uncast though as with the enthusiasm Neeshka hugged him he had sometimes worried she would trigger it.

The Wells of Lurue were about the same distance from Mulsantir as the Sunken City was so it was only a single night to spend in a shelter, but the light was fading as they approached them as it had taken almost all of the following day. The gorges brought back memories for Blake and he found himself automatically keeping a watch on the slopes for Bugbears or Orcs. He wondered whether to follow Neeshka's example and have his bow in his hand or whether to take his shield from his back so he could better protect her while she sent arrows up at any ambush. Neither Gann nor Okku had mentioned any local tribes of those but that meant little as Gann could likely travel very stealthily and only the most foolish would try to attack a bear-god in all his power and colourful glory.

"I… know this place," Okku rumbled hesitantly. "I know more than just this place was important to my clan. I remember a pool and a gathering of beasts, the water rushing from above. And the moisture on the air… it carries the scent of my clan. And their voices too, they are near little-one, can you hear them?"

Blake turned his attention from the slopes to look at Okku and felt a moment of shock as he saw the confusion and apprehension that had replaced the usual strength and confidence. "Something strange is happening here, my friend, something has changed you."

"When a cub was lost, or a clan scattered, they knew to come here," Okku continued, his head twitching about like a gigantic but watchful mouse. "The forsaken were safe with the eyes of Lurue upon them."

"You don't seem to be feeling safety here," noted Blake, eyes scanning the surroundings for ambush.

"I hear them as well," Gann added, tilting his head as he 'listened'. "They are lost… they are the cries of the confused, the lost, the _mad_. Be careful Old King Bear, I think you may be in danger here."

"Do they live?" wondered Okku. "I hear pain in their cries… and rage. My kin are here, hiding among the rocks perhaps, but why…"

"We shall find out," Blake replied firmly. "Whatever is causing them pain we shall end it or at least discover the cause so it can be fought or planned against."

"Your eyes are sharp, and my nose is keen," rumbled Okku, some confidence returning, "they won't elude us though their voices are… hard to catch." The bear-god paused and returned to his wondering. "I hear my name in their calls, fleeing into the crags, like a playful wind…"

"Night is falling though father bear," Gann reminded them, "and quickly with these surrounding hills. To search we shall need the light of day and we may even gain by first searching in dreams. Or by meeting with the Hill Tribe to eliminate them…" he paused for effect, "as a cause for your kin being troubled."

"Hrm, I am eager to search in the waking world…_now_," complained Okku, "but agreed."

"Fortunately there is a farmstead nearby and within whose palisade we may rest," smiled Gann. "This is not my first visit to these Wells, though when last I came the spirits were calm."

"That is good news, both parts I mean," Blake nodded, "that there is somewhere to shelter and that this unease is a more recent occurrence. It makes me concerned it could be caused by my curse, but at least that is something we are working against and the less time this has been going on the better."

As Gann had said the farmstead was nearby and he had not been misusing the term when he mentioned it had a palisade. Blake was quite impressed as there seemed few trees nearby and that looked as solid a barrier as that protecting the supposedly important garrison at the Lake of Tears. It did worry him though over what dangers must be here to justify that much effort. An old man glanced towards them through the open entrance and to Blake's surprise his attention was not drawn by the huge multicoloured bear shining in the rising moon but fixed instead firmly on Gann.

"Have you come to spit on my generosity again, spawn of Hags?" the farmer demanded, turning from the small field and challenging them almost before they were close enough. "I was a fool to offer you my roof and welcoming words before. Expect no hospitality from me, now or ever, _dog_. I offered you all this and you repaid me by running your sickly claws through my daughter's mind!"

Gann's mouth opened and closed slightly a few times before he managed to get a practised sneer on his face and into his voice. "I expect nothing from the farmers of Rashemen except the tone you show me now, and I have done nothing to your daughter. If you blame me I demand proof!"

"See her then!" the farmer snapped, turning to Blake. "See her and see how Anya speaks in mumbles, half-words, ever since the visit of that Hagspawn. Lost to madness because of him. See how Anya whispers his name, as if in his embrace. _Then_ tell me he has not touched her mind and left it in ruins."

"You think I bear the weight for _that_?" demanded Gann, working himself up into a fine fit of pique. "You soil-churning _fool_ of a farmer, watch where your tongue takes you lest I take offence…"

"Gann, please," Blake interrupted. "Let us examine the girl."

"You take _his_ side?" said Gann in a betrayed voice, looking at Blake in disbelief. "You blame _me_?"

"I believe there is something wrong with his daughter," Blake replied calmly but firmly, "that his anger and his concern are both genuine. Let us find out what has occurred so the girl may be cured or, at the least, your name cleared with her father."

Gann was still alternating scowls at the old farmer and Blake as they crossed the short distance to the house. Okku looked at the door and rumbled and settled himself down to wait outside, but Neeshka followed as Blake and Gann entered. It was plain but comfortable inside and wandering around was a young woman. She was not as old as Blake had expected from the grey of her father outside but he could have fathered her later in life or just be older than he looked as farming was hard work. She was also pretty enough Blake could see why Gann would be tempted.

"Gannayev? What are you," Anya said, her half-closed eyes opening wide as she saw him. "Am… am I awake? Or…"

"It is I, Anya," replied Gann, "and you are awake, yes."

"But why come to me now?" Anya asked, her eyelids beginning to droop again. "Father will see! Unless you are in trouble, you must come only in dreams, only then can we be alone. Ah, I must sleep… Gann, I am coming to you my love."

"Anya, I have _no_ intention of entering your dreams," protested Gann, "and nor have I… not after the night I stayed with you."

"So much for him having 'done nothing' to her," Neeshka whispered into Blake's ear. He grunted in agreement. Gann being tempted was understandable but giving into that and seducing the girl was a betrayal of her father's hospitality.

Anya's eyes had opened again in puzzlement and her voice matched her expression. "But… but you came to me last night, and the night before, and the night bef…" She broke off as realisation dawned on her. "_Oh_, I see! You are spinning lies for your friends to protect me, to protect me…" Anya's voice began to trail off and fade into murmuring to herself. "To protect me as you always will my love…"

"Anya, I did _not_ come to you", Gann replied, his voice sharpening as he tried to cut through this daze. "I have not stepped into your dreams."

"You have. Who are you? You are not acting like yourself. Unless, perhaps at times you are confused as I am. More and more the waking world takes its toll. In _dreams_ is where I wish to live."

"Something… something _is_ wrong with her, her father did not lie," Gann admitted reluctantly. "Anya, will you close your eyes, for just a moment?"

"Of course!" smiled Anya eagerly, her eyes nearly opening again in joy before she obeyed. "What game do you plan, what new game shall we play?"

Gann's eyes closed almost as much as Anya's had been as he focussed and reached out. "She… she also does not lie," he admitted again, with even more reluctance. "I do visit her, but it is not I. She has shaped another me, a fantasy of me, with her mind. I did not even realise she possessed such power. This is… inconvenient."

"'Inconvenient'?" Blake repeated, his tone conveying eloquently his opinion of that as a term.

"Do not judge me, I meant no harm," said Gann, realising the disadvantage of having friends was you cared for their good opinion of you. "But the more she shapes this echo of me the worse her madness will become. We need to end this other Gann, and quickly, before he becomes any more real."

"Why are you speaking of madness? And of killing yourself?" screeched Anya. "It makes no sense, unless, unless you are not real yourself." Her voice began to rise in volume and pitch. "Get away from me! You are a shadow, an impostor, a reflection, a lie cast by truth."

"Outside," Blake growled. Gann gave Blake a sour look at being ordered but followed.

The incipient hysteria seemed to calm with their withdrawal and as they passed through the door back into the night Okku raised his great head from where it had been resting on one paw. "I take it the daughter is _not_ well?" rumbled Okku, his ears having easily heard the start of the commotion.

"She has created a dream-fantasy and prefers it to facing truth," Gann replied. "If we do not help her she will lose herself in dreams. It will be the same as dying, and a slow wasting death as well."

"Fiend!" accused the farmer, overhearing this. "You see the truth of him now."

"He has said he did not realise your daughter had such power, and that he meant no harm," Blake replied, defending Gann despite this demonstration of why the Witches had imprisoned him, "and I believe him."

"More fool you then!" retorted the farmer.

"And more fool _you_ if you do not accept our aid," Gann sneered back.

"You expect me to trust you?" asked the farmer incredulously.

"I expect you to realise that you have no choice," Blake replied firmly. "Your daughter is facing a lingering end and, even if we did betray you, we could not make her fate much worse. Do not think I would be unwilling to bind and gag you to prevent you from preventing us from trying to spare her that fate.."

"And _you_ should not think I am alone and defenceless, I have allies who would aid me, how else do you think my walls were built."

"Then let us hope that for your sake, our sake, and their sake we do not need to fight." Blake's glance towards Okku betrayed his words as it showed he actually thought it less for 'our sake' than the other two reasons. "Now, Gann, how would we help her?"

"I cannot fix this alone," Gann admitted, "but with my mother's eye giving you the power also to walk in dreams, as I do, you could accompany me into her dream and we may put a stop to this…"

"You want to run your fingers through her mind again?" demanded the farmer. "Was not once enough?"

"Gann accidentally shuffled the cards of your daughter's mind," Blake argued, trying for convincing metaphor, "so now he wants to reshuffle them back into order."

Ignoring the farmer's grunt of doubt Gann continued. "Of course for her to be dreaming she would need to be sleeping. Which with her eagerness to return to unreality and night falling should not take too long. Though we should be sure she has entered the dreams before we make the attempt."

"Farmer, do you want my assurance as a god-of-bears?" Okku rumbled suddenly. "Your wish to protect your cub is admirable but to save her you need to let the little-one and the Hagspawn make their attempt. That is _my_ word."

"I… I… very well, but I shall want to be in the room."

"That will avail you little as all that is to be done will be in dreams," Gann pointed out, "but your presence will not hinder us either."

The farmer tersely nodded and retreated inside, returning after a few minutes with a bundle of poles and ropes and pegs wrapped in a cloth. "Here," he said handing them to Blake before turning away and leaving again. Blake unrolled the bundle and nodded as he saw the hooks and eyes on the three poles and how the cloth was sewn around one of them.

"We have better tents than this…" smiled Blake, recognising how these would fit together into a basic shelter.

"We do?" Gann interrupted in surprise.

Blake looked at Gann in equal surprise before chuckling slightly. "We do, or at least Neeshka and I do, but come to think of it we've not used them. Caves in the mountains, shelters on the road, and even in the Ashenwood we dug into a snow bank. But as I was going to say… we have better tents but this gift is promising. Shows a little hospitality at least, _despite_ your previous actions, so we should accept it."

Gann frowned a little at Blake's tone of disapproval but nodded and bestirred himself to help Blake and Neeshka as they set to work. The small mallet that had gone unused along with the 'better tents' proved equal to first tapping the clothless poles an inch or so into the soft soil and then securing the pegs to anchor some ropes one side of them. Blake lifted the pole with the cloth and fitted its hooks into the eyes on the now vertical poles so it and they formed the mouth of the shelter. Then they stretched the cloth back at an angle and drawing it reasonably taut secured other end of it with more pegs. The vertical poles shifted slightly as this pulled at them but the ropes kept them from falling.

It was a basic shelter such as the farmer might use to keep wind or rain off delicate seedlings and almost useless if the wind shifted to blow into its open mouth. But it would suffice for a single night and especially since they could also have the extra shelter of the bulk of a bear-god lying across the front or one side of it. Bedrolls arranged Blake took the chance that it would not come to fighting and unbuckled his plates to lay them and his shield and his sword and sword-belt to one side. They settled down to wait and watch the moon rise higher as they chatted. Neeshka was halfway through an amusing tale when she stopped. Blake had just enough time to wonder why before the door to the farmhouse creaked open and he realised his sweetheart had heard the farmer moving that much sooner.

The farmer carefully made his way out of his house, dim light spilling from the doorway showing he was not overgenerous with candles or lanterns but was generous enough to need the moment to let his eyes adjust. He looked at them and then his eyes fixed on Gann again. "You…you are _awake_!"

"With such excellent company and storytelling," Gann replied, "that was no hardship. Why is this so surprising?"

"If you are awake, my friend," said Blake, with a flash of insight he thanked Oghma for, "then you are not dreaming."

"Ah, and despite our assurances," Gann sighed, "the anxious farmer here still thought I would be in dreams and visiting his daughter."

"She is calling your name, Hagspawn," snapped the farmer, "what else am I to think."

"That Gann is right and she has shaped a fantasy of him," Blake replied, standing smoothly.

"I know that seems unlikely," added Neeshka, "after all who would want a dream-Gann."

"True, the reality of me is so much more magnificent," Gann smiled, also standing. "I assume that is what you meant?"

"Of course," grinned Neeshka, "I'd never suggest there were better things to dream of."

"I do not want to know what you dream of, _Demon_," sneered the farmer, catching sight of Neeshka with her hood lowered.

"Gold, jewels, us finding a comfortable private room," Blake replied. "Though," he added, his hand going to the dagger he was still wearing and a feral smile coming to his face, "insult her again and what _I _would dream of would be your corpse in the dirt, and that dream would _soon_ be fulfilled through blade or spell."

"Little-one," rumbled Okku, "you cannot kill _everyone_ who insults your mate. Even if from the tales you _have_ killed almost all of them so far."

"Be fair," Neeshka winked, "most of them were going to attack us anyway."

Although he was not intimidated as he knew, unlike them, that he had Telthor friends who would rally to him in battle, and with more enthusiasm for being able to help him protect the land rather than till it, the farmer dropped the subject. "Come, come and see my daughter and see what happens each night."

Blake nodded and he and Gann began to follow the farmer inside. Neeshka waved goodbye to them and settled back to recline on her bedroll. Seeing Blake glance back at her she struck a pose worthy of the finest Deneir blessed artists. Though they tended to paint their model without armour or even clothing beyond, perhaps, a few wisps of silk the effect with her fine chainmail uncovered by leather and padding was still just as eye catching. Blake smiled to her, and then entered the farmhouse and crossed the hall to join the waiting Gann and farmer. The farmer slowly pushed the door open and led the way again inside.

On the bed Anya writhed as if she was on a stage putting on a show for those seeking erotic entertainment. The way her sweat made her thin nightclothes cling to her left almost little enough to the imagination that she would not even have needed to be wearing much less for that show. Her breath was coming in short gasps as she reacted to an invisible lover and seeing her Blake understood why 'maiden wracked by amorous dreams' was a popular scenario. He'd not understood before as that sort of show was more the preserve of the nobility and by the time he had the gold or social standing to attend such a revue he was already close enough to Neeshka to not feel the need to watch a lass he'd find less pretty.

"Oh Sir Gannayev!" Anya moaned suddenly, forming words rather than just little groans.

"_Sir_ Gannayev?" repeated Gann. "She seems to have mistaken me for nobility. I'm better than that…" Gann's voice trailed off as he glanced at Blake and remembered his friend was a Knight of Neverwinter.

"No offence taken."

"I am glad your lady was not here to protest though," smiled Gann. "_Knight_-Captain."

"Hrm," the farmer interrupted. "I still do not trust you, spawn of hags, but that you are standing here while also in her dreams suggests you may have been truthful."

"Mmmmm…" purred Anya, wriggling slightly and chuckling, "that _tickles_."

"You thought he might have taken a nap," Blake said, looking at the father rather than the pretty girl squirming on the bed.

"That did occur to me," nodded the farmer, "that he had been in her dreams and then withdrawn."

"Entering another's dreams or leaving them is not that simple, and your daughter _is_ powerful. Blake and I shall have to both concentrate our efforts if we are to insinuate ourselves into her fantasy."

"And I apologise for seeing your daughter like this," added Blake, gesturing to the bed, "and for if we see her in even more intimate circumstances in her dream."

"I know you are a villager at heart," Gann chided, sitting on the floor, "but concentrate on the task before us rather than any embarrassment. Focus with me…"

"Oh Gann! You are such a tease!" cried Anya, giggling as if she had been told a joke as Blake also sat.

"Imagine we are opposing gusts of wind," Gann continued, closing his eyes, "pushing away the clouds wreathing a tall mountain…"

Blake closed his eyes as well and focussed on what Gann was saying and how Gulk'aush's eye in its pouch was helping him feel the flow of the dreams. This was not easy and rather than being swept away like he had at the Mosstone it was more like pushing through jelly. But this was no novelty as Blake was more used to thick Mere mud to wade through than he was to fast flowing streams. Determinedly he pushed on until he felt it end and opened his eyes again to see the Dreamscape. It was surprisingly barren as they appeared to be outside surrounded by snow rather than surrounded by cushions and beds and baths. The temperature though was more like a pleasant spring day so it was a little surreal that the snow had not melted. Ahead of them stood two figures gazing adoringly at each other.

"Oh, Sir Gannayev," breathed Anya.

"Yes, my dearest Anya?" Dream-Gann replied, his voice going deep and sultry.

"Nothing," Anya dimpled. "I simply _love_ saying your name."

"And it pleases my ears to hear you say it, my love."

"I… _do_ believe it is the taste of bile that's rising in my throat," the true Gann commented, the treacly sweet exchange putting an expression of disgust on his face. "I may be ill, stand away."

"At least they're not naked," Blake replied, amused at the desperately earnest romance. "Unlike the ladies I'd not appreciate seeing your naked grey arse bobbing up and down in the grass."

"Ah, _how_ romantic…" smiled Gann, "you _do_ have a true poet's soul, or experience of getting gnat bites on all four of your cheeks."

"Only two cheeks," Blake chuckled, "remember I _do_ have a beard, as well as a true poet's soul."

"What? Who is there?" demanded Anya as she realised that she had an audience and that they were not enraptured by the true love before them.

"Stand back my love," Dream-Gann said, stepping between her and them. "I shall protect you."

"Protect _her_? By the spirits, you can't protect her when your very existence causes her harm," sneered Gann. "You are a fantasy she conjured up that is driving a wedge between her and the waking world. And a poor fantasy at that."

"Gannayev?" Anya asked hesitantly, peeking around Dream-Gann's shoulder. "How can there be two of you?"

"Because even _I_ cannot be perfect in all things," Gann replied, ignoring Blake's slight snort at his ego, "and I did not realise you had this power."

"Do you know this half-blooded mongrel my love?" Dream-Gann asked, drawing himself up to bestow a sneer on Gann.

"Mongrel?" chuckled Gann. "What does that make you? A half of a half?"

"Have a care with your words _villain_," said Dream-Gann in affront, "or I shall make you dine on them!"

"Brave words for a fantasy that must end," Gann replied, looking his near duplicate up and down. "One that has terrible fashion sense and a nose that is all wrong."

"Enough banter," interrupted Blake, "or melodrama. Anya, you need help…"

"You sound like father," Anya interrupted and accused, "and I need no help."

"Do not waste words on these intruders Anya," Dream-Gann declaimed with a dramatic squaring of his shoulders. "Something is wrong here, and I think these others may mean us harm."

"There _is_ something wrong here," replied Blake calmly, "but it is not us. And if I sound like your father, Anya, then remember how much he loves you and would want you safe from all harm."

"Enough!" Anya cried, a slight gleam of tears in her eyes. "I have listened to my father continually accuse my beloved of crimes, of hurting me, and now he sends others to find us and drag me back."

"I am with you, my love," declared Dream-Gann, puffing out his chest a little.

"If it is a fight you want, then that is how this must be settled," Gann replied, sounding a little eager to quieten this distorted reflection of himself.

"Or we can talk some more," Blake said, interrupting the bickering of the two Ganns again. He looked at Anya who was still peering past Dream-Gann as he struck his pose of valiant defender. "I am confident _this_ Gann is the real one and you are confident that _yours_ is real. Shall we let them compete to see the truth of who loves you most?"

"I am _not_ here for your amusement," Gann sneered disdainfully. Then he lowered his voice and muttered to Blake. "And in any case it would be _that_ one since that is why he was created and his sole purpose in his existence."

Blake nodded slightly to Gann as Dream-Gann flexed what muscles he had. "I _however_," he proclaimed, jutting his chin and chest out, "would welcome a chance to prove myself. Bring on your 'contest.' I am not afraid!"

"Then we shall let you begin," invited Blake.

"I love you Anya!" Dream-Gann said, turning to face her and speaking as if he was an actor trying to reach and convince dullards in the back row of a theatre. "I am only whole when you are around."

"Revolting," judged Gann quietly, "and _so_ unimaginative."

"Unimaginative because true," replied Blake, also quiet and with a small smile, "never mind being whole, he only _exists_ when she is around. I'd warrant you have more eloquent words for love than he does. You seem far more blessed than he by Milil."

"And you would be right, though it is my talent rather than some god's," nodded Gann, getting into the spirit of the contest and still keeping his voice down, "so stand back. My words might ignite a passion so fierce this dream will catch on fire."

Gann stepped forward a little and turned on his full charm, managing to project seductiveness with understated gestures that for all their subtlety were far more powerful than Dream-Gann's obvious posing. Anya's eyes widened a little at the effect and she took an involuntary half step to the side as suddenly Dream-Gann was in the way of what she really wanted to see.

"Ah, Anya…" Gann began, putting romantic sorrow into his voice as he raised it, "this glade around you is a poor home for a _beauty_ such as yours. Those clouds in the sky hide the sun's gaze from you, when _all_ should be allowed to look upon such loveliness."

"I need share her with no-one!" retorted Dream-Gann.

"_I_ would not fetter Anya's movements," Gann replied soulfully, gently touching his chest above his heart. "I would allow all to gaze upon her for whatever they might see only _I_ can appreciate her inner beauty. The beauty of her soul as well as her body and exquisite face."

"Oh!" squeaked Anya.

"What? He tells lies!" Dream-Gann said desperately. "I love you! I am only whole when you are around."

"Anya, I am whole at all times," murmured Gann seductively, "for you are with me always, our love connecting us no matter what distance separates our bodies."

"Oh!" Anya squeaked again, blushing. "Oh _my_… I've been such a fool for a Gann I've created out of nothingness. It's time for me to wake up now."

The dreamscape dissolved around them and Blake took a few long blinks to adjust to the dimness of the bedroom after the brightness of the 'outdoors'. Looking to his side he saw Gann and Gann gave him a slight crooked smile. There was a noise from the bed and Anya's father strode forward from where he seemed to have been leaning against the wall watching them suspiciously. He grabbed his daughter's hand and started squeezing it as she lay there, eyes twitching as she woke, and as Blake and Gann stood. From the lack of pain in his rear from the hard floorboards it seemed to Blake that it might not have taken much longer in reality than it had in dreams.

"I feel… strange," Anya finally mused, "but… alive. Everything seems brighter, but there is a _strange_ fringe around it…"

The farmer gave Gann an accusing look before he returned to looking at his daughter. Gann rolled his eyes at Blake and then spoke. "It is the fabric of thoughts, of dreams you are seeing. You will come to ignore it in time and see it only when you wish. I call this my 'Dreamer's Eye' and like an eye it can be closed. You… you are _strong_ Anya, it _shames_ me that I did not see it before."

"I am the one who feels shamed," sighed Anya sadly, bringing her free hand across to pat at her father's as it continued to hold and squeeze the other. "I fooled myself with the idea of you, didn't I?"

"There is no blame to be had, and if there is it should not be borne by you," Gann replied generously.

"Indeed," growled the farmer, "none of this was _your_ fault my sweet daughter."

"Dreams are… a difficult thing to master," Gann continued, ignoring this comment, "but now you are aware of what you can do you will find the fields of the sleeping world are now yours to travel."

"You would not be there though would you?"

"Not as the Gann you imagined, no," smiled Gann, thinking how much better the slim chance of meeting him was than the guarantee of meeting the duplicate. "But if you travel dreams then I hope we will cross paths again. Hope makes its home in such places, and always has."

The farmer gave Gann another warning look and noticing this Anya sighed. "Well, thank you, both of you, you saved me from myself and I will not forget. For now though could you let my father and I speak in private. I have much to explain about what has happened."

Blake looked up from his thoughts. He'd noticed something similar to what Anya had mentioned but with how his vision of the world could subtly shift depending on what magic he had aiding him he had not found it as unusual. It had just been something to get used to and things seeming brighter and being outlined had been useful in the night and the dark and the Shadow Plane. There did seem more to it though from what Gann had said. Blake nodded in a half-bow and courteously retreated. Gann with his greater natural charm, if not the lessons in etiquette Blake had endured, followed suit and soon they were both out in the main room and hall. Blake closed the door on the beginnings of the low-voiced conversation and then, despite himself, jumped a little when he turned around and Neeshka was standing there within arm's length.

Neeshka giggled slightly at her harbour-boy's reaction before she could speak. "I saw how he was looking at you, Gann especially, and a sleeping target is easy to slit the throat of. So I followed."

"_Was_ there any trouble?" asked Gann, curious.

"A couple of times he gave you a really nasty look," Neeshka reported, "and he did finger the hilt of his knife a little. But if there had been trouble then he'd have had to hope you were in the mood to ask the spirits and that they were in the mood to heal him. Or return him to life."

"Thank you for watching over us," said Blake gratefully, "you are the greatest blessing in my life and you have proven it again."

"Whooo, harbour-boy," Neeshka whistled as they moved towards the door outside, "getting romantic again, and in front of Gann even."

"We did solve the problem with a contest of seduction," replied Gann.

"What?" Neeshka exclaimed, giving Blake a glare.

"Between _him_ and the fantasy of _him_ Anya had created, but perhaps I was inspired by his eloquence as well as your beauty, my love."

Neeshka blushed slightly at thinking the contest had involved her harbour-boy as more than a spectator. Sometimes she still found that she doubted Tymorra had blessed her so much, that she really was lucky enough to have found someone that loved her and who she could love in return. Some small part of her deep inside was waiting for Blake to show his true nature and act like so many of the men she had known before him. They would have been very happy to seduce a farmer's daughter for a contest and to use whatever lies were needed to win and enjoy the 'prize'.

Outside Okku rumbled a mild greeting. Blake glanced at the moon and was glad Neeshka had not needed to stand guard too long. He settled down and with a small smile of apology Neeshka settled down next to him and snuggled up. There was not quite as much room for either of them as they had needed to slightly overlap their bedrolls but Neeshka was happy enough with slightly overlapping Blake as well. They lay there for a few moments before Blake came to a decision and spoke.

"What Anya mentioned, about things being brighter with a fringe around them," Blake commented, turning his head to look at Gann. "I have noticed the same or similar but I had assumed it was a blessing of your spirits."

"Your assumption was correct," replied Gann, "though not in the manner you thought. It is not some…spell or prayer for me to ask them for, it is a blessing they gave me from how they raised and nurtured me."

"Then if this is something innate to you then how am I affected?" Blake asked, reasonably.

"I am unsure. We certainly have been through much together and it had been some time since I travelled with someone I could trust," mused Gann. "As such I have been more open with you than with those others I have had the misfortune to encounter, and opening oneself to another touched by the spirits can have other effects. And though our dreams together were not as… intimate as mine with Anya we have shared them and travelled the Dreamscape together."

"Glad to hear your dreams were not as… intimate," Neeshka whispered to Blake. "I think I'd have counted that as being a naughty harbour-boy."

Blake coloured slightly and tried to keep his voice calm as he spoke to Gann. "So, you have affected my perceptions the same way as you did Anya?"

"Perhaps more gradually," replied Gann, "over the course of a few dreams and several days and nights of travel rather than a single dream and night. But if so then this is neither a curse nor a burden like the hunger consuming you, it is a gift of the land and of the dreaming. You will notice you see many things clearer than before and that perhaps, with time, this power might develop and grow."

"Grow how?" said Blake, trying to not sound too suspicious. "No offence, my friend, but as much as I trust you I have had some unpleasant surprises with discovering hidden powers."

"Which was why I said it was neither curse nor burden," Gann nodded.

"And I trust that opinion," Blake reassured him. "But Zhjave seemed to think my link to the Sword of Gith something…" He paused. "Not quite blessed but certainly something to be envied, and that led me to be hunted by the Githyanki and may have been a factor in my being chosen by the Red Wizards to be cursed."

"We cannot know the future, but were you to be hunted it would be because of the value of your insights," said Gann, equally reassuring. "To be able to see more clearly what others need and speak more clearly of what you see and how to satisfy them would serve you and them well. With practice, as I said to Anya, you could ignore this and close your Dreamer's Eye or you can embrace it."

Blake nodded to Gann and then turned his gaze towards the cloth of the shelter over them. Neeshka snuggled back closer to him as he considered this. If he was still Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep then there was much work there where being able to better settle disputes would be a fine thing. To be able to see where there was malice and where there was only honest confusion or mistakes about the matters. The day had been a long one with a full day's walking so sleep soon came to slow his thoughts and then morning soon afterwards.

"Little-one," Okku rumbled, rousing Blake.

Blake blinked a few times to get some sleep out of his eyes and then looked out the mouth of the shelter. The farmer was standing there looking nervous and Blake felt a moment's concern as it was unusual for him to wake up so slowly. Neeshka wriggled against him as she also woke and Blake gave her a quick kiss between the horns before carefully sliding his arm out from under her and extracting himself from the shelter. The farmer looked at him and then looked away before looking back as Gann joined Blake in standing and waiting for the farmer to speak. Blake glanced back into the shelter and Neeshka smiled at him before she stretched like a sleepy cat. He smiled back as he enjoyed the sight and the sheer sensual enjoyment his beloved gained from this.

"I…" the farmer began hesitantly, "my daughter, she seems to have slept normally and to be in calmer spirits. She woke this morning with her eyes clear and did truly wake rather than being in a doze."

"Then, as we hoped," Blake replied, "it does seem Gann was able to restore her mind and repair the damage done."

"We, my daughter and I, spoke long after you left," continued the farmer, "she blamed herself, told me to not think ill of Gann, blushed deeply when I mentioned she had spoken and reacted to her dreams and that was why I was so concerned…"

Blake looked at Gann. Whether he was half-asleep or whether he was just feeling stubborn, and he looked both, it seemed Gann was not going to answer. "You were right to be concerned," Blake said, continuing the conversation, "though your daughter is also right. Gann meant no harm with his actions so you should not think too poorly of him, and he does ask your forgiveness for what was caused by his honest mistake."

"I… what?" Gann exclaimed, not appreciating being spoken for despite his unwillingness to speak.

"Then I must also ask his forgiveness," half-bowed the farmer, "and offer my apology for my words spoken before. These came in haste from the love a father has for his child and his grief to see her suffering."

"I… it… of course," stuttered Gann before regaining his usual smoothness. "Your apology is taken and I assure you I have learned from this. To find a gem such as your daughter was surprise enough I did not realise she was even more precious and rare than she appeared. That she had strength of dreams as well as of mind and body, and beauty in both."

The farmer looked at Gann for a moment and then turned away without a word but with an air of decision. Blake shrugged slightly as the farmer retreated into his house and then glancing back to Gann saw the frown that he was no longer even attempting to conceal now the farmer had left. "Please," said Gann sourly but quietly, "_don't_ speak for me in future."

"You are a friend," Blake returned in the same quiet tones, "and friends smooth things over for each other."

Gann looked surprised at the idea; it had felt like Blake was assuming the role of a parent or master and Gann's independence of spirit had rebelled against that. "A concept I am not used to," he eventually replied, "but I suppose willing to accept… in theory."

Blake nodded and deciding Neeshka was nicer to look at than Gann, even if the latter was no longer frowning as much, turned to face the shelter. Neeshka had already begun on shaking out the bedrolls and rolling them up and from a desire to help her, and from the impatient look on Okku's face, Blake decided he had better assist. Now morning had come so had the bear-god's impatience returned to find either the Hill Tribe for possible vengeance or his clan to discover why they were in distress. Gann sulked a few moments longer, lost in thought, but eventually returned to help strike camp.

It did not take long to return their things to their packs and lower the shelter. Blake had just finished strapping on his plates and his swordbelt when they heard the door of the house open again. The farmer emerged holding a small shield like a tray and with a helmet on it. Anya smiled to Gann from the doorway behind her father and followed him out into the early morning light. Blake and Gann exchanged a quick look and it was the latter who stepped forward to meet them.

"Please," the farmer said, holding out his burden, "accept these tokens of my appreciation. They may help you on your travels."

"My thanks," replied Gann politely, taking the things, "I am sure they would serve me well."

"And thank you again Gannayev," Anya called, "I shall miss you."

"May your dreamwalking be free of stumbles," Gann called back.

Despite his gratitude the farmer still frowned slightly at this exchange and turned and herded his daughter away from the dangerously handsome Hagspawn. Smiling at this reaction and that things were back to a more normal routine Gann looked at the items. "I think this shield would aid my thoughts to flow easier," he said as the spirits whispered the advice to him, "but though I could strap it to my forearm and still use my spear I doubt it would be worth it. The weight would take a lot of getting used to and if my hand was on my spearshaft then I could not follow Neeshka's example and move my arm gracefully about to deflect blows."

"Even if it only deflects blows that happened to fall on it that might still be useful, but your choice my friend," Blake replied. "And the helm?"

"Oh, please," smiled Gann, "I have seen the effects of your hat or your helmet on your hair." After a moment he continued. "More seriously though it does seem a fine one, with excellent padding and a shape that would deflect hammers and suchlike away. But it would muffle my senses and make me slower to react, which idea I dislike _almost_ as much as how it would disarrange my fine flowing locks."

"Then let us depart, spawn of hags," rumbled Okku, "and let you hope you are not struck in the head to have your skull as well as your hair affected."

Gann nodded and with a smile handed the shield and helmet to Neeshka as they passed out of the stockade. She added the helmet to the ever more satisfying hoard she was building up in her magic bags and Bag of Holding but paused as she looked at the shield. Blake glanced at it and nodded to her. "That colour would match your armour," Blake commented, "so it would look good on your arm. More practically if it would aid your mind in the same way as your ring then if we found a nicer ring to go on that finger it might be better to have the aid from that shield instead."

"Hmmm," mused Neeshka. "It is a nice shield, one to keep for now… and gives you the chance to look for rings for me, harbour-boy."

"What a burden for him, I am sure," Gann smiled. "He is so reluctant to buy you things and search for the right present to make you happy."

Blake chuckled and then realised that he'd not yet made his morning spells. That lack was soon remedied and he decided to strap his shield onto his arm and accept the weight there. It felt heavier when it was there rather than on the carrying straps over his shoulders but, according to Gann, there was danger to Okku from something and there was whatever danger the Hill Tribe might pose when they were found.

"Blast," Blake muttered as he reached that point in his thoughts, "if the farmer hadn't been so keen to protect his little girl we could have asked him for directions to the Hill Tribe. Though that would likely have reawakened his suspicion of us if they are as hostile to flesh as they seem to be to spirits from calling my curse a gift."

"There does seem only one path," commented Gann, "so let us follow it with caution."

They had not gone far through the narrow valley before a small figure rose from where it had been concealed behind a rock. Neeshka's already strung shortbow came up and her other hand reached for one of the arrows she had ready but she controlled her reaction to draw and loose. It was close though as she had been so ready to send arrows back up the slopes if needed and because even when she recognised who had ambushed them there was still the urge. This little girl might not be as obvious a danger as Orcs pelting them with crossbow bolts and rocks but she was probably a greater threat, and Neeshka was willing to do much to protect her harbour-boy from his own good nature.

"Spirit-eater! I did not think you would come," Ku'arra greeted them, "but Headman U'juk is wiser than I, and he made me keep watch for you. U'juk has much knowledge of spirit-eaters and the Gift to share with you. We've begun preparations for a feast. With your arrival we can complete the feast. Follow me, please."

"Of course, we look forward to meeting your Grandfather so please lead on," replied Blake politely before dropping his voice and muttering. "Trap?"

"Trap," Neeshka muttered back, regretting more moment by moment that she had not 'accidentally' put an arrow through Ku'arra. Preventing her leading them to the Hill Tribe might stop them finding the answers there but would also stop the Hill Tribe from being able to ambush them.

"Without doubt," added Gann.

"Rend them," Okku rumbled, causing Ku'arra to turn and look at him as even if she could not hear what the bear-god had said she could hear he had said something.

It was only a short distance further with the little girl skipping ahead of them in her enthusiasm, then stopping and turning and waiting for them to rejoin her. The side valley Ku'arra eventually stopped by had a narrow mouth and could have been easy to miss if not for the child almost dancing up and down to get them to follow. She waved and skipped off again and into it. Blake took the chance of her being out of sight to make a few more spells.

"Biscuit?" smiled Gann.

"Aye," Blake confirmed as he finished, "avoiding the gesturing _and_ extending the duration."

Okku gave an amused rumble. "Not that your spells and sword and my claws and teeth allow a fight to 'extend' that long, little one," he commented with confidence.

Blake nodded and followed Ku'arra. This seemed so certain a fight that he folded and put away his hat to replace it with chainmail hood and helmet. Helmets could warm up in the sun and the chainmail prevent air from circulating around his neck and add to the feeling of enclosed sweatiness. So people tended to leave them off and down unless they expected they needed the protection. Which made having them on and up less diplomatic but Blake did not care as he made his way up the short incline to where a few crude shelters seemed to form the Hill Tribe settlement.

"I'm itchy!" complained a small child, herded together with other children to one side of the valley. "_Why_ I wear this skin?"

"Hush, youngling," a Tribeswoman said, as Blake wondered if the tribe needed to boil their leathers and furs. "We have guests for dinner."

"I'm so hungry," the child continued petulantly. "I hope they taste good."

"_Hush_," the Tribeswoman said, looking quickly over her shoulder, "here they come."

Blake and the others exchanged glances as the Tribeswoman turned back to quietening the crèche of younglings and then Blake nodded at a pile of bones that Ku'arra had skipped past without concern. "What the child said," Blake commented quietly as they walked past that pile. "What some bones look to be."

"Eww," replied Neeshka with a quiet shudder.

"How do you know what…" Gann began to ask.

"I've fought undead, as have you," muttered Blake, still quiet as there were more tribespeople around them, "that were just bones."

"A good eye for detail," Gann admitted. "Myself I was busy with the fighting."

Okku gave a low quiet bone-deep growl as Ku'arra turned again and beckoned them on as they had slowed in speaking. "My grandsire U'juk is waiting ahead, just a little further now, spirit-eater."

There was a short extra slope to where a grizzled old man and two younger looking women waited. One in particular looked as if U'juk had robbed whatever the Hill Tribe used for cradles but both seemed subdued and submissive. Ku'arra bounced up to her Grandfather, smiling at him and very pleased with herself at her success. "Grandsire, spirit-eater is here."

"Something…" mused Gann, "something is not quite right with this man and his tribe. I feel as if I know him… he seems familiar somehow."

"Do you remember where?" Blake asked quietly. "He does seem not have the same 'fringe' as Anya and her father, so to not be human… maybe?"

"That is what is not quite right, but how it is not quite right and where I have seen it before, that eludes me," replied Gann, lips tightening slightly in annoyance. "But _if_ I met him before, this was not the form he wore."

Blake nodded, feeling as if he was about to realise something but then U'juk spoke. "Spirit-eater joins Hill Tribe for a feast, and Spirit-eater has brought an Ursine ally."

"And spirit-eater was told you had knowledge to share."

"I have lived since another time, centuries past," continued U'juk, surprising Blake as he didn't look _that_ old. "A time when stories walked the land in flesh and blood. I have known spirit-eater in many different shapes. Some I have befriended, learned from, and taught. Others I have _eaten_, when they betrayed the Gift."

_'Hmm,' _Blake thought at that, remarkably unsurprised after the comments and the bone-pile.

"It is a service I provide in _respect_ to spirit-eater so that the Gift may pass to one worthy of it," U'juk finished, glossing over it also being a good meal. "The spirit-eater before me betrays the Gift by defeating one such as Okku and not feeding on it to gain the power that is the spirit-eater's right."

Blake sighed and decided to not even try to argue. "As the spirit-eater before you had the power to defeat one such as Okku," he said calmly instead, "he finds your threat laughable and has heard threat before."

"Like spirit-eater Hill Tribe wears different forms," U'juk growled. "We do not feed in human form…"

U'juk, his two females, and even little Ku'arra seemed to _twist_ with clothing vanishing and white fur sprouting over most of what those clothes had covered. Their faces lengthened into muzzles and the tips of long canine teeth became visible as thick browridges formed and their arms lengthened as their legs shortened. The exposed skin of their hands and hand-feet and faces and chests darkened from the paleness of northern humans to a hideous sunburn pink.

"Now spirit-eater sees the true form of Hill Tribe," said U'juk past his more impressive teeth, his voice a little more resonant as his chest had broadened.

"Ah, _Uthraki_," Gann commented, perhaps more concerned than his tone let on. "Like the ones who made the threat before and who in response we slew at the Sunken City… with considerable ease."

"Bugger," said Blake. "Didn't know Uthraki could shapeshift or I might have made the connection with all the mention of different forms."

Okku rumble-chuckled in satisfaction. "I know you now, U'juk, you chattering ape!" he said with some delight. "And I remember the taste of your blood… this time I shall have more than just a taste I think."

"Perhaps this time the Gift will pass to me when spirit-eater dies," hissed U'juk. "I suspect I killed the others too quickly before, I shall make _this_ death linger."

"I'll make yours quick," Blake replied, drawing his sword with the speed of both long practice and his magic. Neeshka followed suit after calmly removing and folding her cloak to drape it over one of the stone faces either side of the entrance.

"Ku'arra," ordered U'juk, "tend to the younglings while the adults deal with spirit-eater."

"Yes grandsire," the little Uthraki replied, adding, "save me a portion of the loins, I savour it so!"

Okku saw no need to waste any more time on needless chattering and lunged forward. One mighty paw swept around and into U'juk, dagger-claws carving deep furrows across the Uthraki's chest as he was smashed back and off his feet. Gann and Neeshka moved forward to protect the bear-god's flanks as he moved forward to press his attack but Blake instead turned and let his gaze follow Ku'arra. The noise of their heavy footsteps and hunting cries had carried in the quiet air of the valley and Blake was not surprised to see more adult Uthraki bounding up the hill.

What was an unpleasant surprise was that there were a few more than he had expected. Rather than the three he'd expected there were seven and he had the vague impression that four of them were males from the extra bulk of them. Blake allowed himself a moment of amusement as he let them get a little closer. If Uthraki formed pair bonds then one of those males might have been unfortunate because U'juk had taken two females for himself. Then Blake made them all even more unfortunate as he chanted and summoned the power of the Weave to his command and a ball of flame formed in front of him. It hung there for the half-second and then erupted into seven separate fragments that arced away and into the Uthraki as the spell of _Firebrand_ was completed.

He was rather relieved this had worked as although this spell had the ease of frequent use that had been preparing the spell with the extra power to make arcane gesturing unnecessary. As confident as he was from using what Gann had dubbed his 'biscuit' skill that he no longer needed to gesture it had still felt like a risk. The magic still flowed correctly though despite the size of his shield and how even Mithril interfered when you wore enough of it. Each of the smaller balls of flame were more intensely hot than the single one created by a spell of _Fireball_ and they burned deep into the Uthraki rather than bursting out over a wide area.

Ku'arra had been glancing over her shoulder to watch the glorious charge but she had stopped and turned and stared as she saw the charge be staggered and halted by magic she had not known spirit-eater had. Screams of pain and rage reached her and she turned again and rushed on and around the corner of the slope. The younglings might need more tending to than Grandsire U'juk had thought.

"Swap," Gann said tersely.

Blake turned, nodded, and took over fighting the Uthraki female that had been Gann's opponent. In the time Blake had spent waiting for the others to get closer and on casting his spell Gann had already managed to inflict a few deep spear wounds on her. She was moving as if partially crippled and could not take advantage of the moment the interchange took.

Gann looked down the slope at what had now dissolved into individuals struggling back to their feet or struggling to gather the willpower to even attempt this. He mentally apologised to the spirits for asking them to again let him use their gifts in this manner and then made his plea. Out of the clear sky columns of lightning struck down and into the Uthraki, the passage of the electricity through them making their muscles spasm or simply cooking their flesh where it passed. If anything this was worse than normal lightning as at least in a thunderstorm some of this might pass across rain dampened skin or through damp clothes or fur. Those Uthraki that had managed to rise were battered back down into the dirt and those that had not risen were battered deeper into it.

While the rest of his tribe were being so poorly treated by magic U'juk had managed to regain his feet. Blood streaming down his front from the gouges across it he swung a punch in at Okku's head. The strength and speed of that blow would have cracked most non-magical shields but against the bear-god it was foolish. Okku turned his head slightly and shifted his position so that the punch brought U'juk's arm into his waiting mouth. Spirit-teeth closed on tough Uthraki flesh and fur and with one convulsive heave of his immense neck and shoulders Okku swung his foe around. The distinct popping noises of a dislocated shoulder and elbow were capped by a slight crunch as U'juk met one of the stone faces.

Neeshka was also doing well as deep cuts decorated her opponent to weaken her moment by moment with blood loss. So far the Uthraki female had not been slowed greatly but as she heard the noises and saw out of the corner of her eye what had happened to her mate she was distracted just a little. Neeshka's rapier came glinting in to slice open the Uthraki's throat and though she managed to, barely, block this the incredibly sharp blade sliced her forearm open from elbow to wrist. The Uthraki threw herself forward to try to brawl Neeshka to the floor where her advantage of greater strength and weight would tell and she would be able to bring her teeth to her enemy's neck and discover what Demon-blood tasted like.

The Uthraki's long arms spread wide but Neeshka gracefully sidestepped far enough to be out of reach and then swiftly back in as the Uthraki passed her and tried to stop herself stumbling down the slope. Neeshka twisted with so much ease as to almost disguise the speed and precision with which she drove her elbow back and drove the rear corner of her bracer-blade into the rear of the Uthraki's head. This was probably already a fatal wound as though it was no more than an inch deep or wide it had landed accurately on where spine met skull. However she was not taking any chances whether it was death or just the pain and impact of the blow that had caused the Uthraki to fall. As her adversary tumble skidded a little way down the slope Neeshka finished turning and with two quick bounding strides caught up to first stab down with her rapier through the Uthraki's heart before grabbing her sword hand with her other. Neeshka fell to her knees to use her weight to drive her forearm down like a bar and guillotine the length of her bracer blade across the back of the Uthraki's neck.

Meanwhile Blake had taken advantage of the wounded state of his foe and decided to disdain subtlety. His sword swept in at the Uthraki's head but with a burst of self-preserving speed she managed to fling her arm up and into the way. Against a human, or even an Orc, Blake's sword would have simply cut through and on into her skull. But the tough flesh and tougher bones of the Uthraki managed to resist and his blade stuck slightly in those thick arm bones. Casually Blake stamp-kicked the heel of his boot into the Uthraki's knee. The kick did not do much harm but did affect the knee enough the Uthraki stumbled. Blake was already leaning back a little for the kick so the drag of the blade as it was freed by the Uthraki's motion and his arm pulling back against it just brought him back upright.

While the Uthraki was still off balance Blake coiled and uncoiled into what would have been a classic fencing thrust had his sword been rather smaller. This was more Neeshka's sort of blow as it was not easy with a sword the size of Blake's to keep the blade straight with just the strength of your wrist. Unfortunately the alternative was one of the things Blake's choice of shield interfered with. Around the base of his sword blade a blunt section had been fitted and though that was partially for balance it was mostly so a hand could be placed under there to use the sword like a short stabbing spear. But though Blake could just about manage to get his hand on the hilt for a more vertical blow his shield was too large to turn his arm for that other grip.

Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for the Uthraki female, Blake had the practiced skill to control the strength of his muscles and magic belt. The enchanted metal stabbed into the Uthraki's heart and Blake gave his sword a twist as the magic discharged and he withdrew it. Then Gann was there and stabbing his spear into the side of the Uthraki's head as she fell and sprawled. Blake nodded to his friend, grateful for the assistance as he remembered how tough the Uthraki at the Sunken City had been and there was no handy lake full of hungry things here to throw them into to make sure of their death.

"Pfah!" Okku spat, his muzzle red but already shedding the coating of blood. "Perhaps I should _not_ have been so eager to have more than a taste of his blood. It was as foul as his support of your curse little-one."

Blake looked past the bear-god at the disembowelled and dismembered U'juk and nodded again before glancing down the slope to where Neeshka was retreating back to join them. A few of the Uthraki his spell and Gann's appeal to the spirits had felled were still twitching slightly which underlined his concerns over how hard they were to kill. Blake wanted to rub his beard in thought but aborted the motion as he still had his sword in his hand.

"I think, even if I were inclined that way," Blake decided after a moment, "that we do not have the sort of healing those would need to live rather than just have their death delayed. No need to leave them to suffer though."

Gann smiled slightly to himself and decided to not protest or complain. It seemed Blake was underestimating the gifts the spirits gave him but as those _were_ gifts from the spirits Gann was even less inclined than Blake to use them to benefit those that supported the eating of spirits. There were few Uthraki that Rashemen would not be better off without and the words of their Headman had shown these were not amongst that small number.

They worked their way down the short slope stabbing hearts and slicing throats and Okku's great paws crushing skulls. Even those that were lying still rather than twitching received the same treatment just in case they did need the mercy killing. Soon they reached the corner and around it saw some very small Uthraki huddling fearfully behind Ku'arra. She tried to look brave as Blake glowered and approached but as the armoured man loomed over her this faltered towards nervousness.

"So…" Blake hissed, flicking his sword so blood splattered into the dirt by Ku'arra's feet. She couldn't stop herself flinching a little. "You wanted a piece of my loins, you _savoured_ it so."

Ku'arra swallowed a few times. Grandsire U'juk had been wise but perhaps luring spirit-eater here had not been as wise. Still despite his rage the spirit-eater was talking rather than having already begun slaughter and he did spare Okku. Perhaps he have weakness of soft-heart to diminish strength of magic and sword-arm and she and younglings could escape with right words. "Please, spare the younglings," Ku'arra said, doing her best attempt at puppy-eyes. "They have done no evil."

"_Aside_ from hoping we would taste nice?" asked Neeshka sarcastically.

"Is a wolf evil when it hopes the farmer's sheep taste nice?" Gann said rhetorically, raising Ku'arra's hopes with his apparent support before dashing them with his next sentence. "No, though that does not stop the farmer killing it to prevent further predation."

"These cubs will have a hard enough time surviving the winter," rumbled Okku, disinterested in the fate of such unchallenging potential enemies, "there is neither glory in slaughtering them nor much mercy in sparing them."

"No glory or mercy in it but blood ties are strong," Gann argued. "Not only may these seek to prey on people like their parents, like a wolf, but they also have the mind to remember we killed their parents and to seek revenge. Slaying them now may prevent greater evils later."

"Spirit-eater, I beg you," said Ku'arra, feeling discouraged as she realised of this quartet one was apathetic and at least one wanted their death, "do not devour us."

"Of course I won't _devour_ you, that would be using this curse in a way your _late_ Grandsire would have approved of," replied Blake, his sword twitching and his expression shifting to a predatory smile. "Though I don't need to _devour_ you when I can turn all of you into burned carnage, like your parents, with a _single_ spell."

"Harbour-boy…" Neeshka hurriedly said, not concerned for the Uthraki but concerned with how slaughtering them in anger would affect Blake, "temper."

Blake nodded to Neeshka and closed his eyes for a moment to take a deep breath and calm himself a little. "I will give you this one chance. I fought the adults in self-defence, I am not a murderer, and so I will let you go. With conditions."

"Thank you spirit-eater," Ku'arra replied, glad to see a little of the battle rage leave the man's eyes. "The Hill Tribe will never bother you again, I promise."

"You will not bother anyone," Blake said, chanting and gesturing. The Uthraki younglings cringed back at little and exchanged surprised glances when Blake finished and they were all still alive. "There, you now have a spell upon you. It was intended to help find wounded soldiers but the stone I shall give the witches will react to _your_ presence now. Prey on travellers and they _will_ be able to hunt you down with ease."

"They already hunt us spirit-eater," pointed out Ku'arra hesitantly, trying to object without provoking more immediately lethal magic. "We will surely die if you give them such a stone."

"I shall extract a solemn oath from them to leave you in peace, so long as you restrict your hunting to things that cannot talk. If this condition is not acceptable then your alternative is to join the adults of your clan in the afterlife."

Ku'arra glanced to the slope where she had seen all those spells cast and the adults of the tribe felled with such ease. "No, it _is_ acceptable."

"Remember, this is _one_ chance," Blake growled, twitching his sword again for emphasis. "If you bother me, or hunt things that can talk, and make me regret this act of mercy then that regret will be repaid a thousand-fold."

"Come, younglings. Quickly now!" said Ku'arra, hurrying them away.

"What did you mean by 'repaid a thousand-fold'?" Neeshka asked cautiously as the small Uthraki vanished and Blake drew out a cloth to begin cleaning his sword.

Blake smiled to Neeshka, looking a lot calmer though that very dispassion gave his next words extra weight. "Well, if they will not keep their word then obviously track down and kill any survivors of the Hill Tribe," he replied, as if discussing what wine to have in an Inn. "Beyond that it would depend… depend if you had been injured, depend whether I had more power from troops under my command or from magic I had learned, depend on how much time I could devote to a war of extermination if you had been injured by them…"

"I get the picture," Neeshka interrupted. "Sheesh, what happened to the kind hearted guy who negotiated with the Lizardfolk even the second time."

"I prefer diplomacy still," protested Blake in a slightly hurt tone, "and when the Lizardfolk broke the agreement, and even during their original attacks on Highcliff, they tried to not hurt anyone and the breach was because the King of Shadows was manipulating them. These Uthraki would have no such excuse."

"Though they do have a way to avoid your spell," Gann pointed out as Neeshka headed back up the slope to recover her cloak. "Once they have raised their own cubs to an age to be able to survive then they can simply have those cubs kill them so they can hunt unencumbered by their parents."

"I was lying about the spell."

"Yes, I suspected as much," Gann replied. "Why?"

"Because I would rather lie to children instead of killing them. Even if that requires me to threaten and bully them as well. Though they were fortunate they did not ask for my word or oath on what I said as I'd have _not_ foresworn myself and that would have only left death as a solution."

"At least we found another shield," Neeshka said, returning and trying to distract Blake with a smile and by showing off what she had found. "A bit spiky around the edges but it does have a pretty pattern of interwoven knots on it."

"Hmm, that is attractive," replied Blake politely. "I think I'd prefer it for looks without the spikes, either on those tines or the one from the centre, but those could trap weapons or be useful if you have to hit things… with… wait."

"Harbour-boy?" Neeshka asked as Blake stopped speaking and lent forward to begin examining the runes.

"Hmm," smiled Blake, "maybe I am not going to have to find you a ring. Or not for the reason we said back near the farmer's. This has a _lot_ more protective magic than the one on your arm and maybe something else. How much do you trust me my sweet?"

"A lot…" Neeshka admitted, before caution forced her to add, "why?"

"The mind boggles," commented Gann. "That sounded rather like 'if you love me you will let me do this' and that can lead to interesting outfits or practices."

"Stand over there," Blake gestured, ignoring Gann, "and try to stand still and not dodge."

Neeshka looked a little worried as she moved. "Dodge what?"

In reply Blake summoned some magic to the shaping of his words and cast a _Fireball_ at his sweetheart. As it formed and streaked from him at her Neeshka's strong legs flexed and she started to shift her balance to dance aside. But she loved her harbour-boy, she trusted him, and she fought down that instinctive reaction. The fireball struck and burst but before Neeshka could feel more warmth than that of a sudden shaft of sunlight it vanished in on itself and into her new shield. It glowed bright enough for this to be visible even in the sunlight and she happily moved it into a shadow to better see this glow.

"Whoa," Neeshka said, impressed and watching as the glow faded. "Looks like your armour harbour-boy."

"Except that will absorb any spell up to the third circle rather than just raw magical energy," Blake replied, smiling as Neeshka unbuckled her old shield to replace it, but looking less pleased as a thought occurred. "Or to put it another way it is useless against any spell more powerful than the third circle rather than at least absorbing some of the magical energy."

Neeshka grinned at her harbour-boy, tilting her arm and admiring her new favourite shield, which had pushed the one that matched her armour into second place and the one she'd been using into third. "Let's hope the students at that Academy haven't learned too much magic that is too powerful then."

"Aye," Blake smiled back, "Tymorra has smiled on you. That could be a good chunk of their spells, so it was well found."

Once Neeshka had checked the rest of the encampment and pouted slightly at the lack of anything else worth looting they left the short valley to return to the main gorges and their search. Blake glanced around and wished Khelgar were here as mountains were more Dwarf terrain and he might have a better instinct for how these paths might link and split. Still while those hillsides remained free of enemies and the climbs remained gentle it was not too bad walking around here. It was warmer and the air was less thin than the path to Immil Vale.

"Do you have any better sense of the turmoil my friend?" Blake asked, turning to Okku. "Any more scent or any change now U'juk is dead?"

"It… is still difficult little-one," murmured Okku, almost quiet as he strove to explain. "Faint cries of pain and… hatred. I feel a weight on me of decisions I do not remember and guilt I feel without knowing the source."

"There is still danger and eliminating, most of, the Hill Tribe has done nothing to change that," Gann mused. "It is strange though. What whispers I hear surround Okku with threat rather that you."

Blake slowly nodded. "And he is to be revered as a god-of-bears, while my curse makes me loathsome to those same spirits."

"Not quite," Gann corrected. "As you might have noticed in the Ashenwood the spirits are fairly neutral. They would respond to Okku's will and respond if they felt your curse reaching out to brush against them, even if it did no more. So it would be more accurate to say you both should be being ignored but if you were noticed then, yes, it should be you drawing the hostility."

"It looks like the hills are impassable ahead," said Blake, accepting the correction and pointing northwest. "Let's head up that way to circle back around towards the farmstead. Unless there is a better path?"

"That seems as good a route as any," Gann smiled, "though I suggest we not enter the stockade and presume on another welcome."

Whispers surrounded them as they walked, barely on the edge of Blake's hearing and making him reluctant to remove his helmet, lower his chainmail hood, or place his shield on his back where it was easier to carry. He'd barely managed to convince himself that it was the work of moments to draw his sword again and so that could be returned to its scabbard rather than remaining in his hand. The sensation of threats flitting about dampened their mood with worry. Except for Neeshka who seemed unaffected though alert as her eyes scanned the slopes and her shortbow was held lightly but expertly in her hand. Whether this was because of her lack of a connection with the spirits, not being a god or shaman or eater of them, or because she was simply too sunny a person to let it bother her Blake did not know. But the joy her presence brought him and the example she set him did help him fend off the formless doubts.

"Hrmm, little-one," Okku rumbled suddenly, his voice hushed against his own doubts but sounding loud in the stillness. "I smell smoke, and not of a natural source."

"Campfire?" asked Blake.

"There is no scent of burning leaves or grass," Okku nodded, "just of wood that has been dried or been selected as being dry rather than green and damp."

"It could be nothing," sighed Blake, "or it could be the paranoia that these gorges are instilling in me but, my love, would you scout before we approach openly?"

"I _hope_ you meant me," Neeshka replied with a wink.

"Such a task would not suit _me_," murmured Okku, distracting himself with some amusement.

"And though the spirits could hide me," Gann added, "I think he and I are 'just good friends'…as devastating as that is to _both_ our hearts."

Despite their efforts the cheerful banter somehow rang hollow and it was without another word that Neeshka crept silently away. Blake watched her as far as he could, both for the pleasure of the sight and because the same paranoia that made him want her to scout meant he feared for her, but soon he lost sight of her as she vanished behind a few blades of grass. Time dragged by and Blake began to gradually wonder what the very faint drumming noise was before he realised that was his fingers nervously moving on the hilt of his sword. To his relief Neeshka suddenly appeared out from the cover of a pebble and waved to them with a smile.

"Looks like a group of Witches," Neeshka reported, seeing Blake's expression and accepting a quick one-armed hug from him.

"Perhaps Ku'arra was not exaggerating how much the Witches hunted her tribe," mused Gann, "though when you say a group?"

"There were several of them," Neeshka replied, "which after only seeing them in twos and threes before was a bit of a surprise."

Gann nodded. "Then these may be Durthans, we are far enough from Mulsantir for them to safely gather and plot here but not so far for it to be difficult to reach that city."

"I… have no quarrel with the Durthans," Blake realised. "They might be enemies of the Witches but the Witches have _not_ been good enough friends to me for their politics and plotting to be my concern. Or at least not my concern compared with ending this curse."

"My feelings differ slightly," replied Gann, "I would prefer the Durthans to not gain advantage, but I can understand you not wanting to become more involved. A note of caution though, whatever you feel these women may feel differently so if we approach their camp we should be careful."

Blake paused and thought. "Unless we retrace our steps we have no choice but to approach, my friend, and we need to know who these people are. What their purpose is here and whether it has any connection with how unsettled the spirits are. If this is their doing or if they seek to cure it."

"Then let us _approach_ little-one," Okku growled impatiently. "Enough time has been wasted with caution and discussion."

Not waiting to see if the others were following Okku prowled forward and towards the slight bend from around which he could smell the smoke. Though the aid of the Othlors had balanced the hindrance of Dalenka nothing, so far, had balanced Kazimika's mockery of his loss of so many memories of life. So whether these were Witch or Durthan mattered little to him as long as they gave proper respect to him and the spirits and did not interfere with his oath.

As Neeshka had reported there were several masked women and as Okku's nose had reported there was a campfire. They turned at the sound of Blake's clanking and of Okku crushing quite substantial bushes underfoot. Some nervous looks were exchanged before an older one stepped forward as a spokesman. Behind her the others moved to what Blake, with a sinking heart, realised were positions where they had clear lines of sight for spellcasting.

"Ah… look," the old masked woman said, suiting actions to words as her gaze travelled up and down Blake's body. "Spirit of hunger, we _know_ you. Hiding here amongst these crags, we heard your approach, like a shriek upon the wind."

"Hiding," Blake muttered, noticing that and realising that made it almost certain these were Durthans. He raised his voice to address their leader. "If you know something about my curse or the turmoil around these wells then perhaps we can trade favour for favour, or information for gold."

"No. I have a different sort of trade in mind…" smiled the old Durthan evilly, "one more favourable to myself and my sisters."

"More fighting harbour-boy," Neeshka softly commented, "which is good as I owe her some pain for checking you out like that."

Blake shuddered slightly to Neeshka as the old Durthan continued. "If we slay you _here_ your hunger will pass to one of us… and we can use the power against our cowering sisters. It will be Whitefeather who cowers amongst the rocks and _wails_ her sorrow on the empty wind…"

"Wails," Blake replied, a small corner of his mind glad he'd learned Sheva's surname so he knew who this Durthan meant, "_excellent_ idea."

This even more of a risk than the _Firebrand_ as he had cast this spell maybe as much as twice since he learned it, and failure could cost him his one chance to soften them up, but Blake began to quickly chant and summon arcane power. The old Durthan had frowned in puzzlement when Blake seemed to agree with her, but then she recognised a phrase of the magic and realised what he meant. She and the other Durthans began to cast their own spells but, despite him not being well practised with his spell, Blake managed to beat them to finishing and in the centre of their group spectral dust began to swirl.

Out of that dust erupted a giant ghostly woman who curled and drew in more breath than even her great lungs should hold, then to arch her back and release it in one long scream that rippled out across the Durthans. More than half of them collapsed in the suddenness of instant death as the woman and the dust vanished. Blake nodded to himself at the success of this attempt at casting _Wail of the Banshee_ in armour and without gesturing. He drew his sword and plunged forward to take advantage of whatever shock the sudden change in the odds had bought them.

The old Durthan was tough and had survived the spell but compared with the Uthraki her flesh was delicate silk compared with sailcloth to cut. Blake continued the momentum of drawing his sword into a backhand sweep to slice the tip of his sword across her stomach. Neither the cloth of the dress or the aged body below provided much resistance as the blade carved through and the old Durthan crumpled around the wound. Even had Blake's sword not had magic that discharged into her guts as it passed that would still have been a fatal disembowelling wound without prompt healing.

Blake pulled his sword back to curve it up and around to attempt a vertical downward blow onto the now exposed back of the old Durthan's neck as one hand tried to hold her innards in and the other supported her as she leaned forward on her knees. But though the other three Durthans had faltered for a moment as their sisters died they had recovered now and each of them cast a _Lesser Missile Storm_ at Blake. Magical missiles blossomed out from them and arced at Blake.

Neeshka had taken advantage of the talking to unfasten the clasp of her cloak and she darted forward, the cloak falling off behind her, to protect her harbour-boy. Even she was not quite as fast as the projectiles of magic energy so most still struck Blake. One lesser storm he could almost have ignored but three striking almost simultaneously and when he was a little off balance in mid-swing was far too much for him. The impacts and the pain drove him down onto one knee and he had to rest his sword and sword-hand on the ground to keep himself from falling further. The few missiles that had struck Neeshka had made her stumble and make a small noise of pain that caused a tingle of rage to flush up Blake's spine.

Blake looked up at his sweetheart, his armour plates glowing in patches where the missiles had struck and it was trying to re-radiate the energy away. Some of those patches were overlapping and there especially Blake could feel some heat through the chainmail and the padded shirt beneath.

"Fourth," Blake grunted.

Very briefly Neeshka's brow creased in puzzlement between her dainty horns but then this cleared as she smiled and sprang at the nearest Durthan. Okku had also not been wasting time and he was charging with slightly less speed and considerably more weight at the Durthan on the other flank. She was backing away before him but Neeshka's target showed less sense or more over-confidence and stood her ground. She chanted and cast _Flame Arrow_ but to her surprise and dawning fear the small balls of flame swirling around each other swirled into the shield rather than the body of the charging Tiefling. Neeshka's shield glowed and the Durthan hurriedly cast _Magic Missile_.

This was a weak spell but she had prepared it to be cast more swiftly, so she knew she could cast it in time, and projectiles of magic energy had hurt this demon-spawn before where the _Flame Arrow_ had not. But again Neeshka's shield seemed to draw the spell into it and glowed with even more vigour. The Durthan had a moment to realise what the armoured man had meant by 'fourth', he had been telling the Tiefling what circle of spell _Isaac's_ _Lesser Missile Storm_ was, and to wonder if that difference was why her third and first circle spells had failed where that had not.

Then Neeshka's rapier flicked out and sliced across her chest just above one breast. That arm went limp with the pain and with the severed muscles so it fell to her side uselessly. The Durthan raised her other hand in front of her face to try to ward off the next attack but that just gave her a better view of another rapier flick neatly clipping through those fingers. Her hand dropped as she stared at it in shock and then, taking advantage of her defencelessness and her distraction, a third and final flick from Neeshka's rapier sliced her throat open to the spine.

The Durthan being charged by Okku had abandoned simply backing away in favour of turning to flee. She had even managed to run a few strides despite how her skirts hampered her. As impressive as that was it did her no avail as Okku swiped a paw across her lower spine and buttocks and shredded them with his spirit-sharp claws. Her momentum and the impact of the blow carried her on a few feet though her legs no longer worked with how she had been almost torn in half. Okku twisted back from how the power of his own blow had diverted him and reared up almost onto his hind legs. This was more the tactic of a horse but it worked well enough for the bear-god as he brought both paws down onto the Durthan's back to crush her chest and heart and lungs and finish her.

Gann paused as he reached Blake who was still struggling to rise. He was firmly braced on his knee and the lower point of his shield but every time he tried to stand he gasped slightly and sank back down again. Beseeching the spirits for aid Gann let some healing energy flow into Blake and freed of that pain Blake's shoulders and back straightened. Seeing no reason to not achieve two things at once Blake stabbed his sword down in front of him where the old Durthan had fallen prone and through her old body into the ground below. This let him make sure she was dead and also to use his securely rooted sword to help lever himself up to his feet.

"Thank you," Blake said, with a nod to Gann and a slight wobble as yanked his sword back out of the fresh corpse and the blood-soaked soil beneath.

"Of course," replied Gann graciously, "though my aiding you might have given us a problem."

The final one of the trio of younger Durthans that had survived the Banshee's wail had also Okku charge and showing some degree of sense had fled while the bear-god pursued her friend. She seemed to be attempting to test the truth of the old saying that you did not have to be faster than the bear, just faster than at least one of your friends.

"Go," Blake waved, taking a deep breath.

Gann nodded, for once not objecting to 'orders', and started to dash in pursuit. Blake took another deep breath as he decided that turnabout would be fair play and began to chant and summon arcane power to him. This only took a few seconds but the Durthan was not a fast runner and with his greater natural speed, lack of hampering skirts, and the effects of Blake's magic Gann had already made up most of the distance before Blake's spell was complete. A _Lesser Missile Storm_ burst from empty air around and in front of Blake's hand and as those missiles arced in and struck the Durthan fell.

These had easily pierced the cloth of her dress and, without the protection even normal armour would give, deep burns pitted her body to wrack her with pain as she tried to rise. Showing greater willpower than Blake, or at least greater motivation as she was alone, the Durthan fought against the agony her wounds caused her as she moved and lurched up onto her hands from lying flat. But the delay had given Gann time to reach her and he stabbed down into her back and through her spine and heart. The tip of his spearhead projected an inch or so out between her breasts and then Gann braced one foot on her back and shoved down with this while pulling back with his arms to rip his spear free again.

Blake brought himself to a stop as he saw Gann needed no aid, his boots digging slightly into in the loose dirt, and looked around. Neeshka smiled at him and started to move to join him, cleaning off her rapier as she did, and Okku was already looking pristine as his spirit-form rejected the gore that had coated his claws. Frowning a little Blake began following his beloved's example and drew out his own cloth to wipe off his sword. He shook his head though as he looked around at the carnage.

"I was not entirely content leaving the Uthraki unburied," Blake commented, "and these we would at least have some idea what would satisfy Jergal."

"Or more importantly satisfy your conscience," shrugged Gann, not caring about the opinion of one of the supposed Gods. "I agree though that leaving these where they lie would allow scavengers, such as the Uthraki cubs, to feast."

Blake slowly nodded. "We can't stop them rotting, but we can wrap them and put them in their house, where they might not be gnawed on by more than rats…" Blake paused and asked hesitantly. "Unless that would be better? I have read of some cultures where they want the bodies eaten as soon as possible so the flesh is removed to release the spirit within."

"Believe me," Gann chuckled, "in Rashemen we know when a spirit has left the body, and that flesh being on the bones is no obstacle to that." Gann paused and went on diplomatically. "Though… I will allow that it may be different in places where the spirits of the land are not as strong and as present and that aiding the spirit's escape may be necessary there."

"Whatever we do with them, harbour-boy, we should check the house anyway."

"Are you thinking loot," smiled Blake, "or ambush?"

"Both," Neeshka replied.

To their satisfaction there were no more Durthans waiting in ambush but to Neeshka's disappointment there were few items worth taking. Even before she'd met Blake petty burglary was something she'd long since given up as unworthy of her talents, and these people had been living simply. There were some gold and gems and some hand-written notes recording how this wealth had been depleted with bribes in Mulsantir. Neeshka took the former and Blake the latter before they began stripping beds for sheets to wrap corpses in. The fastidious Gann naturally gravitated to one of those first slain whose bodies were not quite so unpleasantly wounded.

"That… spell you cast," Gann commented as he began rolling the corpse into the sheet. "It seems most useful, and deadly as this Durthan would attest, but I do not recall you learning any new ones or using it before."

Blake nodded as he wondered if he should leave the old Durthan to drain a little more or use another sheet. There was a red stain seeping through each layer as he wrapped her. "Remember I said I needed extra power to avoid the gestures?"

"Ah, and that was power you did not have over that which the spell required?" nodded Gann. Blake nodded back to him as he finished with the first sheet so Gann added, "I am glad my spirits would allow my appeals to be heard even if I encased myself in metal."

"No offence, my friend," Blake enquired, deciding to use a second sheet, "but why don't you? You are quite fast on your feet but not so fast that, with your strength, more weight of armour would slow you."

"I… enjoy the pleasures of civilisation," explained Gann, rocking back onto his heels and standing smoothly. "The hospitality of Inns, the taste of fine cooking, the chance of conversation and other forms of intercourse. But _your_ armour is dead. It is rocks hammered and crushed and burned, metals extracted and detritus strewn across the land. Contaminated water seeping into the streams from quenching and soaking."

"Hmm. I have heard this argument from Elanee," Blake mused, glad to see a second sheet was enough to absorb what was leaking from the old Durthan. "You feel leather is more 'natural'?"

"My armour may be just as dead as yours," replied Gann, starting on a second unmarked corpse, "but it _was_ once alive. It was part of animals killed in the natural cycle of life and death. Their meat fed other animals or rotted to return goodness to the soil and allow fresh growth, and I thanked the spirits for their gift. I accept the need for some metal, my buckles and spearhead but…"

"But rather a difference between some metal buckles and having plates or chainmail. I understand, and my apologies. You seemed at ease enough in Mulsantir…"

"By which harbour-boy means you were not gawping like he was when he arrived in Neverwinter," grinned Neeshka from where she was wrapping her victim, "or complaining the whole time about how the land was crushed beneath the stones of streets and buildings like Elanee was."

"...That I had not considered you might feel that way from your bond with the spirits and having been raised by them," Blake finished, ignoring Neeshka's loving mockery of him and jibe at Elanee with the ease of long practice.

"No apology needed," Gann smiled, looking pleased at the neatness of the bundle he had made "As I say I do appreciate what a town can offer, so you were right to think me at ease, but I _also_ appreciate nature and am at ease in it as well. I have no quarrel with miners or those that use their goods, but I would simply not feel comfortable wearing metal when I know how some mining can affect the life around it."

"And I have met those who take the near exact opposite view," Blake smiled in return, standing and looking for the next corpse for him to wrap. "They'll not eat meat nor wear leather as they feel killing is wrong. Some can get quite annoyed if you pass on Oghma's gift of knowledge and tell them their cloth came from a field carved out of a forest or their metal from a mine that has poisoned a stream."

Neeshka giggled a little. "We'd already annoyed some of the Neverwinter Nobles by finding their children playing with Necromancy, and then Elanee lectured some others on this and on where some of the bleaches and dyes for their clothes came from."

"Dispelling illusions," Gann commented, "especially those of moral superiority, can lead to hard feelings."

Fairly soon all the Durthan corpses were wrapped singly or doubly in sheets and were placed together to share the same house in death they had in life. Okku had been unable to help with this and his impatience for it to be finished had become obvious. Even if he'd tried he'd not have been able to contain the low murmur of satisfaction he gave when he saw Neeshka locking the door and handing the house-key to Blake. The way south was blocked by a sheer wall of rocks as was the way north or further west so that only left the gorge that headed east from here to where it met the one along which they had approached.

"Your impatience is worrying, my friend," Blake commented to Okku as they started down this gorge. "I can still feel the unease of the spirits around us but I had hoped I was mistaken."

"Mistaken how, little-one?"

"That the Durthans wanted the power of the spirit-eater," Blake replied, glancing up at the slopes, "suggested they were willing to act against the spirits. So I hoped I was mistaken in thinking their death had made no difference."

"I think their deaths did make a difference," growled Okku, "but to prevent things getting worse. Foul creatures that they were they did not deserve the respect you showed their corpses."

"Hmm, I'd argue that I wanted to preserve the bodies in case the Witches wished to examine them, but we'd both know that was not my reason."

"You felt you had the time," smiled Gann, "and you had the materials and a place to put them nearby. After leaving so many corpses behind us you could at least treat some with a little respect."

"But only some," said Blake, making a decision for when they returned to Mulsantir.

They continued on eastwards with the rocks to the north remaining impassable and an even greater sense of oppression falling on all of them save Neeshka. Creaks and falling pebbles suggested rocks almost parting from the gorge walls before settling back and Blake felt the curse twitch each time. It felt similar to how it had been reacting to that gigantic Earth Elemental in the Skein but if Elementals were going to manifest here then they seemed to have changed their minds. The turmoil of the spirits around them seemed to be reaching the boil as they walked further along this gorge and Blake found himself both pleased they seemed to be nearing the centre of this and tempted to turn back.

"Perhaps I should try learning some new spells," Blake said, trying to break the silence. "I have spent much time and effort to better use what I already know…"

"To not need the extra power?" asked Gann, willing to make conversation.

"Yes," Blake replied, the feelings around him driving him into terseness before he remembered his own purpose in speaking. With an effort he continued, "I already know more spells than I can prepare each day, and these seem a broad selection, but studying a new spell could give me more insight into their underlying structure."

"Ah, yes, magic through structure," smiled Gann. "You have to build your spell like an artisan with a mosaic and a tray full of tiles. Whereas I just listen to the spirits and how they think they can assist and together we blend their offers and my wishes into a shape acceptable to us all."

"That does sound more… well… spiritual than books and logic," Blake agreed, "though a little study of what _can_ be done might help you with deciding…"

Neeshka suddenly leapt up onto a rock almost as tall as she was and her slender fingers went to her quiver. A slight movement of her cloak showed her tail was twitching as a counter-balance as she brought her shortbow up and fitted an arrow to its string. Her surprisingly strong arms and chest flexed and she drew that bow and released that arrow at nothing. Gann and Okku both started to turn to look at her in confusion as the sharp arrowhead dug deep into the soft soil.

Blake though trusted her enough to react more instantly. Even as he thought _'…deciding what could be requested or done with their offers…'_ to finish his interrupted sentence he was drawing his sword and preparing to strike at where Neeshka was aiming and releasing a second arrow towards. His trust was justified as four large spirit-wolves faded into existence and one prevented a third arrow from embedding itself in the dirt as it embedded itself in the spirit-wolf instead. That spirit-wolf began to yelp in surprise at the sudden pinprick but then Blake brought his sword down onto its back in a blow that would have killed or permanently disabled a creature of flesh. Unfortunately the spirit-form was tough enough the wolf continued to move and to heal, though it was definitely having trouble with its back legs.

Seeing the spirits materialising Gann had hurriedly backed off. This was both to let him use the reach of his spear and because, despite Neeshka's already hostile actions, he was unsure this needed to be a fight. The feeling this could be a mistake strengthened as the spirit-wolves ignored him and ignored Blake despite his sword strike. But then all four wolves snarled at Okku in rage and madness and tensed to spring. Gann hurriedly stabbed out with his spear and into the meat of one's thigh, achieving the mixed fortune of having it twist around to snarl at him as well. Flicking his spearhead at that face seemed to keep that spirit-wolf's attention, though Gann noticed it kept on glancing back towards Okku.

"They seem intent on old father bear," Gann commented, managing to inflict a shallow cut on one of the spirit-wolf's jowls.

Blake started to nod as he saw the two unwounded and undistracted ones spring forward and snap at Okku. Their spirit-teeth proved more capable of injuring the bear-god than most weapons and they tore shallow furrows from Okku's form. Then Blake had to dodge hurriedly as one huge paw swatted at the spirit-wolf he had slowed and Okku smashed it back head over tail and almost into him. This dodge became a stumble as Blake found himself clumsy and as the spirit-wolf's form swirled away in mid-air.

"Harbour-boy?" asked Neeshka in concern. She might tease him about not being as light-footed as she was but that was poor, even for him. She quickly dropped her bow onto the soft earth that had drifted around the boulder and hopped down from it to guard Blake.

"This curse is seething," Blake replied, regaining his balance. "Do you hear what they cry over and over?"

"No," said Neeshka, drawing her rapier as she reached his side, "though not hearing them let me feel the change in the air."

"'Betrayer'," Gann supplied, stabbing the spirit-wolf between the eyes. It swirled-away as he added. "And strangely directed towards Okku rather than the one with Akachi's curse…"

Okku roared with a rage fit to shake the rocks around them and his great jaws snapped forward and around the neck of a spirit-wolf. He shook it around like a terrier with a rat and as his teeth met to tear its throat out and he snapped its neck it came apart in his mouth. The spirit-form swirled away from beneath his teeth as the final spirit-wolf made a lunge and sank its own teeth into Okku's rear in the classic hamstringing attack of its kind. Even Okku was slowed slightly by having a spirit-wolf of that size hanging on his leg but as the spirit-wolf had no remaining pack-mates there was little advantage to it in this.

Its one advantage was that while it clung on the bear-god could not reach it with his teeth, though as Okku whirled he battered the spirit-wolf slightly against the sides of the gorge. If he would hold still then Blake and Gann could soon have dealt with the problem but with how Okku was moving it was only Neeshka who was fast enough to dart forward as he roared his rage and pain. Her rapier dabbed out in a lightning-fast stab into the spirit-wolf's neck just behind its jaw and then she had to jump back as Okku continued to turn, heedless of her but causing the spirit-wolf to thump against a rock as it lost its grip. Then Okku's paw came in with enough force to uproot and knock the massive boulder askew as he crushed the spirit-wolf's head against it.

Okku turned and glared at his allies, his yellow eyes glowing in the shaded light of the gorge and whirling with his rage, his spirit-form not needing to breathe so the deep breaths he appeared to be taking caused by emotion rather than exertion. As he let out a wordless snarl Blake wondered if the bear-god was in such a frenzied state that he would be unable to tell friend from foe. Okku was a valued ally and friend but, if he sought a third battle, then Blake was willing to slay him rather than endanger Neeshka as the bear-god had just done with his careless actions.

With another snarl Okku turned away and began stalking down the gorge, his growls and grumbles and the three mortals trailing in his wake once Neeshka had picked her bow up. Gradually he calmed and the growls subsided. There was still much anger in his voice though as he regained the ability to form words as they approached a cluster of pools. "Betrayer?" he grumbled. "These spirits… in life _they_ served _my_ clan. Why has this madness taken them?"

In reply three gigantic spirit bears shimmered into existence, partially surrounding the group and making Okku look like a garish cub with their size and lack of unusual colour. Okku faltered in his stride and stopped as he looked around at them with recognition. Blake casually stepped a little closer to Neeshka to put his shield between her and one of the bears and she gave a slight smile to herself at the predictability of her harbour-boy's protectiveness as she reached for an arrow.

"You should know this already," one huge spirit-bear said, sneering and exposing fangs even more magnificent than Okku's. "Noble Kuma… venerable Wotomo…" he continued with a turn of his head to each, "shake off your dreams and look who has come with his head hung low in shame."

"I see him Jabar," Wotomo replied, "but I see _little_ shame in my grandson's posture."

"The danger I sensed before was not the maddened spirits of the crags," Gann muttered quietly, "but these spirits before us. Be on your guard."

"Ancestors…" started Okku, his deep rumble sounding as light as a summer mist in comparison.

"Bah! Do not claim us as kin," growled Jabar. "Our blood ran _thin_ in your veins, and now it does not run at all."

"You cast aside your obligations," Kuma added, "you followed your own path rather than honour those and left suffering in your wake."

"Okku, son of Koju…" began Wotomo formally, "do you remember this place as it _was_? Enough to understand the _ruin_ you have made?"

"The turmoil is Okku's doing?" Blake asked incredulously. "Not the Uthraki or the Durthans… or me?"

"I know _nothing_ of this elders," rumbled Okku, raising his head a little from where he had lowered it in automatic respect, "these spirits served me in life but I am not…"

"We _know_ of your oath, son of my son," Wotomo interrupted, easily crushing Okku's words with his own, "and you led your race to ruin."

"Have you not looked for your kin?" asked Jabar. "Have you not wondered where they've gone?"

"Have you not considered your duty to your own people?" Kuma added. "The duty that came with your noble status?"

"Or," said Jabar with a look of disdain for Blake, "does this monster who holds your leash not permit you such thoughts?"

"The only leash I hold is that which I have imposed on the curse within me," Blake said, hoping Milil would aid his attempt at eloquent diplomacy. "The curse that Okku seeks to end and which we are allied against through his own free will. If my friend has committed some crime then I ask his honoured ancestors to at least explain and allow him to defend himself before their judgement."

"You see?" rumbled Okku. "He is no monster. We will _end_ this curse and…"

"Of course you are allied," Jabar interrupted, "that is what he swore and for that oath he doomed his race."

"Ancestors…" said Okku, actually cringing back a little in shock, "I would not have…"

"Do you remember the fight on the ice, grandson?" Wotomo asked, either impatient with the lack of memory or taking pity on Okku's confusion. "How you led your clan against the eater of spirits?"

"The frozen lake. Yes… I dreamed of this," murmured Okku. "Those memories were strong in my mind when I laid down in my barrow to die."

"Okku has told me of this," added Blake. "How he and his followers fought the previous spirit-eater and how despite their great valour they were defeated. And then how that spirit-eater spared his life so they could ally against the curse."

"My grandson's wounds were deep. His spirit bled… and faded…"

"He should have come to the Wells to die, venerable Wotomo," Jabar nodded, "as our _law _commands."

"He had been fatally wounded in noble battle," added Kuma, "the_ Queen of Talking Beasts_ would have judged his soul and freed him from his oath."

"But Okku chose his _oath_ above his _law_," Jabar growled. "He brought the monster to our sacred barrow, to the chamber that was meant for _him_!"

"The chamber where I awoke…" realised Blake, "where the previous spirit-eater's skeleton lay."

"I told you it seemed strange Okku's bones were right by the exit," Neeshka commented quietly, "rather than as deep into the barrow as possible."

"Mph. Dreams are returning to me, little one…" rumbled Okku softly as he saw the visions, "perhaps it is the waters of the Wells drifting on the air. I remember how the spirit eater traced runes upon the stone and how when he died… and the hunger fled his corpse… it was trapped by those. And that as long as it was trapped the hunger could not pass to another."

"That much we had deduced," Blake noted, asking in puzzlement, "but why would that have doomed your race?"

"My grandson would have you believe he made a noble sacrifice, spirit-eater…"

"And had he sacrificed only himself perhaps it would have been," interjected Kuma.

"But he sacrificed more than that," Wotomo continued. "Our barrow is a sacred place… a wellspring of dreams. It was poisoned by the monster that was trapped within and _all_ our race went mad. They perished as wild slavering brutes."

"That… that is…" stuttered Blake, words deserting him in his shock and as he realised why the madness of the spirit turmoil here had resonated with the curse.

"I _need_ not explain my reasons to petty vengeful ghosts," Okku growled, trying to drive guilt out with anger. "They lured me here, lying in wait, no better than mortal men in the skins of beasts."

"_Whatever_ your reasons, Okku son of Koju you must answer for the death of our race," declared Wotomo. "So say _all_ the elders."

"And… and what would you have done?" Blake asked, regaining his voice. "Allowed the curse to continue? Hundreds of spirits devoured in a year, hundreds of hundreds devoured in the century of respite Okku's actions gave Rashemen."

"A king's duty is to his clan _first_, and to other races _second_, or not at all!" snapped Jabar.

"Our race was the _last_ of the beasts who ran with gods at the dawn of the Age of Faith," Wotomo added, "and who spoke the words of mortal men!"

"Yes," mused Kuma, reluctantly but honestly considering Blake's question, "but the noble status that made us a wonder to be preserved also brought its own responsibilities with it. If your life was bought with ten thousand spirits is that a life worth having?"

Jabar grumbled as he tried to find some way to deny Kuma's words and seeing this Okku returned the sneer his relative had bestowed on them. "Look at them. They are _old_," Okku said contemptuously. "Once they dreamed of wind, and blood, and sky. Now they chatter like apes, and bicker over laws."

"With… respect Okku," Blake replied, "As I am closer to being an ape than a bear I prefer them speaking to us to learn before acting to how _you_ tried to kill me without explanation. We could have been allied from our first meeting rather than it taking two battles."

"Hrmph," snorted Okku.

"No. My grandson is right. We have lingered too long without flesh or fur. Our minds are full of _words_, not dreams. We shall let the son-of-my-son find peace in his own way if he can, but do not look for us again. His race must be lost to him now and always, we can forgive but not forget that he doomed us so he must pay the price for that decision."

"Farewell Grandfather," Okku rumbled to Wotomo as the three bears faded.

Blake looked at where they had been and then sighed. "You did the right thing," he said reassuringly, turning to Okku, "but that deed brought pain your presence would keep from becoming numb."

"So we have learned in these gorges, little-one," Okku murmured, not reassured but grateful for the attempt, "their forgiveness has eased the turmoil a little but seeing me and remembering what I did is still driving some mad. We were the greatest of bears, it was our honour to be sacrificed for Rashemen, but that was still sacrifice so I do understand and accept their judgement."

"Then for the sake of the spirits here let us not linger," replied Blake. "We have found the solution to the problem would be our absence so let us depart."

"Perhaps not yet," Gann said, kneeling and examining the closest pool. "This is an ancient place, one well worthy of the presence of old father bear's even older forefathers as it is sacred to beasts that possess awareness of themselves and their consciousness. However Okku affected the spirits the memories within these pools remain untouched by the turmoil."

"What kind of memories?" asked Blake. "Memories that could hold clues to how to destroy this curse?"

"Not as such," Gann replied, closing his eyes slightly as he reached out with his sensitivity. "Words and facts are not the nature of their minds but fragments of their waking dreams can still be seen and those dreams were not so different from yours, though some of their senses were keener. If you drink from these pools in which they bathed and with my mother's eye to aid you it may be possible to share those dreams and, maybe, the dreams of what lurks within you."

"Would I have to drink here? Remain in this sacred place, as I suspect, or could I just fill a canteen so we can leave the sooner?"

"Hmm, remaining would layer more hurt upon that already inflicted," rumbled Okku, "but if it can help end the curse then so be it. Perhaps when my oath is complete and the spirit-eater is no more there may be a chance they can heal."

"And we do need to remain," Gann added. "Here is where they dreamed and so also where you must dream. I will stand beside you, here and in your dreams, and help you sort and channel any images that occur so this be worth the pain we are reluctant to inflict."

"At least while the curse is within me it is not poisoning the wellspring in Okku's barrow," sighed Blake, " and may Lurue preserve us from also poisoning these Wells if I do become attuned to the dreams here."

"Lurue, or your control over the curse, or my efforts to help prevent anything… leaking… or indeed all three of those should make it safe enough."

Blake nodded and began unbuckling his shield in preparation to settle and dream. Then he glanced at Gann again as a thought occurred. "I am surprised you did not scorn my mention of Lurue."

"Lurue is not a Goddess of misguided men," smiled Gann, "she is Goddess of Beasts and the Spirits they became, and if those spirits who raised me think her worthy of respect then who am _I_ to argue?"

"Makes sense," Blake admitted with another nod, sliding his shield from his arm. He looked to Neeshka. "Sweetheart, can you fill two cups, carefully, as I don't want to touch the water myself until I am prepared and we drink."

"Of course master," Neeshka said with a grin and a curtsy, "as his Lordship commands."

"Terrible trouble getting servants these days," drawled Blake to Gann as he sat and Neeshka got the water. "Still at least she is decorative."

"Very decorative," Gann agreed, wiggling his eyebrows at Neeshka as she returned.

For a moment Neeshka considered 'accidentally' spilling the water on the pair of them. But she reluctantly controlled her sense of humour as continuing the banter of being a clumsy servant could have more consequences than just them getting wet. She handed them each a cup and then knelt down behind Blake to reach around and unbuckle his helmet strap. Blake happily tilted his chin up to give her easier access and was even happier when having set his helmet aside and lowered his chainmail hood she pulled the back of his head to her chest to kiss him on the forehead. The leather of Neeshka's breastplate was not as thin and soft as that of a cushion but to Blake that was more than compensated for by it being filled with Neeshka rather than less desirable stuffing.

"As comfortable as that looks," smiled Gann, "I must make the same warning and request as at the Mosstone."

Blake looked blank for a moment before he remembered and leaned forward a little. "Ah, yes," he said, slightly sadly, "dreams are malleable and…" Blake paused and patted one of Neeshka's hands where it rested on his chest. "Being in my beloved's arms could shape them in a way you do not wish to see."

"There is that, but there is also the nature of this place. The comfort of curling up with one's mate, of a warm den or burrow shared, and of mutual affection would resonate far more with the spirits here than would any of the insights we seek. You would still gain by it by a deeper understanding of your feelings but for now I think we need less information of a less personal nature."

Neeshka stood gracefully, her hands sliding up across Blake's chest rather than her needing to brace them on his shoulders to help her rise, and stepped back a little. Blake's eyes followed her as she moved to join Okku and as he sighed a little to himself. Maybe whatever water of these wells did rise into the air was already causing a resonance or maybe it was that with him sitting and her walking his eyes were level with her tail and where it was attached but he was already finding it hard to remain focussed. Answers to the ancient curse seemed much less important than answers to how to better understand his feelings and make Neeshka happy.

Gann began to speak and Blake looked back to him to listen. "…flow of life, like rivers to the sea, and rain from the ocean, and streams from the rain, and rivers from the streams. Ever flowing, never ending, carrying our minds…" Gann paused. "Drink." They sipped the cool sweet water and the sounds of the pools seemed to grow louder as other noises retreated and the world became dim. "Carrying our minds to insight, to the answers we seek," Gann continued before switching to the same unknown language as he had used in their shared dream of the Chamber of Dreamers.

Gann chanted and Blake focussed again on the rhythm and the sense lurking behind the words and in their patterns. Everything dimmed as their minds focussed and this and the effects of the water drew them together into the shared visions. Suddenly Blake realised both that his eyes were closed and that he could no longer hear the ripples or splashes of the wells. Everything was quiet around them and as Blake opened his eyes he saw Gann peering about with interest.

"What is this place?" Gann asked. "Is this where you awoke? The barrow?"

"Aye," nodded Blake, taking in the scene, "this looks like the lowest level where the chamber was…" With one smooth motion Blake rose and his hand went to the hilt of his sword. "Though that man was not there."

"In a way I was," the old man said as Gann also stood. "And I am sorry you awoke here. No one should have been able to trespass, if the bear had been watchful and my wards had been strong, but I am glad you have returned. I feared you'd come too late or not at all. I've found something, kept it safe for many long years, but the Faceless Man may be close on your heels. We need to make haste."

"I think we should go with him," Gann commented.

"As do I," replied Blake, "he seems to be the echo of the previous spirit-eater from the way he spoke of 'his wards'."

The Old Man acknowledged that with a nod and gestured as he turned away. "Quickly now. Follow."

Obligingly they jogged after him though as they reached a corner Blake slowed and stopped. Rather than follow the Old Man immediately he peered into a side chamber. "Interesting," he commented.

"How so?" Gann asked. "This does seem a normal sort of camp."

"True, but a century of abandonment did not do it good," nodded Blake as he explained. "This vision of the barrow looks to be how it was when that man died rather than when I awoke."

"Ah, memories from him rather than you," Gann replied, "that augurs well for learning from this dream."

The Old Man was looking impatient from where he was waiting and casting looks back at them and then towards the chamber ahead so Blake and Gann moved to join him again. He looked at them and then gestured. "Look there, do you see him?"

"Yes," Blake said, peering and trying to remain pressed against the wall. Stealth was not his talent but he saw no need to be overly obvious. "Someone is within the circle of those pillars. In the place I found myself cursed when I awoke."

"He created all you see here," replied the Old Man, "or it formed around him like an island, a hidden fortress in a limbo of dream. I only drifted here by chance."

"A strange coincidence," mused Blake, "that someone else would create a replica of your chosen prison."

"Not so strange perhaps," Gann commented, "dreams can come from many parts of the mind and this curse does have many minds, and was trapped here for many years thanks to this man and Okku."

Blake nodded. "So who is this creator?"

"A remnant perhaps. A piece of a larger whole," replied the Old Man, "there were many such remnants once but the hunger has gradually devoured them all. I have come to believe that he is a memory, like me, of a previous spirit-eater… or of something that came before."

"You remember the Red Woman in the Mosstone Dream," Gann added, to Blake, "and how the images of previous spirit-eaters feared 'The Faceless Man'."

"He is the Hunger," the Old Man explained, "and against him this and I would be destroyed. No matter my efforts."

"Hopefully this remnant will be more helpful than the Red Woman, if she too was a remnant," Blake replied, "but even if not I do owe you some gratitude. Is there some way I can repay you for your work to keep this remnant and whatever clues it has safe?"

"I ask only your success and your forgiveness for how I have weakened. I set wards to guard this chamber against hostile echoes when I was far stronger and I cannot reverse these now. Beasts await you there, spun from your own darkest memories, and dreams they may be but if you are slain you may never find your way to us again."

Blake frowned a little as he looked back towards the circle of pillars and this time with the warning from the Old Man he could see what awaited them. He let out a low breath as his lips tightened against his teeth and he pulled back against the wall and retreated a few feet. Gann glanced down the passage and at Blake's reaction before he joined him and the listening Old Man. "We could have a problem," he murmured in a low voice that would carry far less than a whisper.

"How so?" asked Gann. "I agree the large figure looks impressive, glowing neck and skull for a head and so forth, but we have faced larger foes."

"That is a Shadow Reaver," Blake replied, "and the only way to defeat them was to recite their true names in a chant to weaken them. And we do not have that name and it was only Ammon Jerro or Zhjave who could pronounce the words of power."

"Ah, but you seem to missing something," smiled Gann, "which is that, if I recall your tale correctly, those were empowered by that 'King of Shadows' and that 'King' is something you have defeated and destroyed."

Blake smiled slightly back. "Let us hope, my friend, that I can keep that in mind, and believe it is vulnerable rather than remember otherwise." They crept the few feet back down the passageway and Blake looked over the scene again. "I don't think we can risk any magical attacks," he decided reluctantly. "I have lost sight of the remnant and they are close enough together an accident could happen. But at least if we can draw them onto the bridge we could take them piecemeal."

"Then let us take them," nodded Gann.

"Stay a little behind," Blake said, trying to use the Red Knight's gift of strategy, stepping forward and into view as he advanced, "you have the reach with your spear and I have the shield and armour."

"As easy as dreaming," smiled Gann.

The skull like head of the Shadow Reaver rotated on whatever magic served it for a neck and it gestured. Out of the dimness flowed two and then four shadows that wisped forward and onto the bridge. Blake drew his sword and as he tensed for battle felt grateful the dream had given him his shield back on his arm and his helmet and chainmail hood back on his head. The Shadows seemed to be moving closer to each other than creatures of flesh could and, though Blake was sure they did each retain their separate forms, they looked as if they were almost merging into one mass with multiple pairs of eyes.

Blake swept his sword forward and through one as it came within reach. This Shadow seemed not as dense as the Nightwalkers nor even as dense as the portal to the Shadow-Weave through which the King of Shadows had been being fed power. The blade passed through it as if it was nothing but smoke and behind it the shadow-form flowed back together. Even so the magic on Blake's sword discharged and a faint flash of light pulsed to outline the Shadow.

Gann also attacked and his spear quickly flicked out past Blake's shield and into another Shadow. As he drew his spear back and saw the hole flowing shut he also noticed the Shadow almost imperceptibly fade. It was like a raindrop in a muddy puddle, a brief area of clearness, the puddle looking unchanged, but the mud having been diluted by that tiny fraction. On the basis that enough rain would turn a muddy puddle into a relatively clear pond Gann let loose with a flurry of very quick light blows that would have barely pieced the skin to bleed most creatures. With how little resistance the Shadow provided though these all sank in and made a hole to further 'dilute' it.

He'd not really noticed the change in the Shadow he'd struck but Blake was also trying to perform quick light strikes as speed seemed better than strength here. As valued an ally as Gann had become Blake did wish his beloved Neeshka was here. She'd be complaining about the lack of vital organs and vulnerable veins and tendons but she did have a great deal of speed and Blake had the same disadvantage. He was nowhere near as precise as she was in his blows, despite the insight he felt he had gained through practice, but he had still trained to land a strong blow on a weak spot. Here no part of the shadow was armoured, or any more or less vulnerable, so precision was less useful and with their insubstantial nature so was putting any force behind the attack.

Seeing how the Shadows were trying to flow over Blake to grapple at his shield Gann beseeched the spirits for their aid and in response they let a wave of healing energy ripple out across the bridge. The Shadows recoiled, hurt rather than seriously injured, and Blake took advantage of this. He waved his sword in front of him as if he was trying to fan away smoke. With how they blurred together and with the normal shadows of the chamber the way the magic of his sword lit their outlines was almost the only way to see how many there were.

Gann continued to flurry spear thrusts at them while Blake kept his sword sweeping back and forth and slowly the Shadows faded towards transparency as they each became less dense and as pairs of eyes vanished and they were no longer trying to see through as many of them. As the last of them dissipated the Shadow Reaver stepped forward with an angry noise and Blake caught a brief glimpse of a small form behind it. As the Shadow Reaver came within range he swung his sword around and into just below where most creatures of that shape would have ribs.

To Blake's annoyance the cloth of the robe barely cut under the blow. Instead it just bent in as if he had been striking a curtain and the Shadow Reaver's only reaction was to punch back. Blake angled his shield and deflected this aside as the Shadow Reaver showed its fist was more solid than its body and that it was strong enough it was fortunate Blake had not tried to take that blow more squarely. With the precipitous drop it would have been bad to be staggered and Blake suspected the Shadow Reaver might be more able to reform its fist than the Lich had been when it shattered it on the blade-ridge of Blake's shield.

Gann quickly stabbed forward and up and into the Shadow Reaver's skull as something that looked solid. There was a distinct thunk as the spearhead dug in and wedged itself firm. Then the wood of the spear shaft began to smoulder slightly in the arcane blue flames rising from the Shadow Reaver's collar as Gann began trying to work either the spearhead or the Shadow Reaver's head free. The Shadow Reaver showed itself to not be as troubled by having a spear in its head as many things would and began to bring one hand up to grab at the spearshaft. Seeing this Blake swept his sword across his body, holding it vertical almost as if he was hooking a punch into someone's kidney.

The cuff of the robe sleeve fluttered away as Blake's sword cleanly cut through it and the shadowy arm beneath but more shadow began to flow out of the shortened sleeve and shape itself into a replacement forearm and hand. Before this could be completed Blake took advantage of the distraction to crouch and get his shoulder between neck and pauldron under the spearshaft. Blake straightened as Gann also heaved up. Though the wood of the spear flexed a little their combined efforts were enough to pop the Shadow Reaver's head free; it fell back as the blue flames guttered out and the robes seemed to deflate as shadow drained out of them across the bridge and down into the darkness below.

"I do hope that means it's destroyed," Gann commented, shaking the skull from his spear, "rather than it joining the shadows beneath us." Blake nodded and Gann looked ahead and continued. "Ah, it seems the remnant here might be one we have heard mentioned. The shades of those unpleasant former hosts did mention something called 'The Boy' and this young fellow would fit that description."

"You have a better memory for the dreams than I do my friend," admitted Blake. "My memory is more of their deeds than their words. But though I think you are right there is still a puzzle here."

"How so?" Gann asked as they approached, Blake sheathing his sword since Shadows had left no gore on it and the child smiling at them in greeting.

"He looks familiar, and familiar to me as well as to the memories of this curse."

"There… is _something_ about him," Gann mused, "something on the edge of recognition for me as well."

The Old Man carefully crossed the bridge, giving the empty Shadow Reaver robes a suspicious look, and joined them. "Do you remember me child? I've brought someone to meet you."

"Have you seen my brother?" asked The Boy eagerly, before adding with more sadness. "I think… he's forgotten me."

"Your brother?" Blake replied. "I don't know, who is he?"

"The priests call him Akachi," said The Boy, giving Blake another smile as Blake and Gann twitched in reaction. "He says it's an eastern name, we all get them when we're given to the church. I'm called Eveshi, but when the priests aren't listening my brother calls me Ahrraman."

"Araman?" repeated Gann in surprise. Blake nodded to him as they realised why he looked familiar.

"'Ahrraman'…" mused the Old Man, "the word for laughter in the old Mulan tongue."

"My brother says I laugh enough for the both of us," The Boy nodded. "He says I'll _never_ make a very good priest if I can't stop giggling during services."

"Perhaps not a good priest of Myrkul," Blake replied, "but Lilira, the _Joybringer_, would have more delight in your happiness." Blake sighed to Gann. "A shame we have seen him as an old man and know he becomes less happy."

"Are you certain?" asked the Old Man, overhearing. "But that could be…"

"Here, take this," interrupted The Boy, pressing something into Blake's hand, "I've saved it for you."

"A piece of a mask?" frowned the Old Man lightly in puzzlement. "He never offered that to me."

"A third mask fragment, to join the other two," Gann mused, "and perhaps enough for it to be complete."

"My thanks Ahrraman," said Blake, trying to carefully pronounce the name, "but how do I use it and the others?"

"We _are_ what we remember, what we _dream_," The Boy replied, sounding older somehow as he became more poetic. "Nothing is gone while pieces still remain. This is the piece that is me, but I am only a part… a part of a whole…"

The Old Man opened his mouth and began excitedly speaking and trying to give advice but though Blake could see his mouth moving a sudden rushing in his ears drowned out the words. The cavern seemed to dance and fade like the lights of swamp gas and to break apart and fragment as Blake swayed with sudden dizziness. He fought against the feeling to try to hear or try to read the Old Man's lips or body language but realising this was no use he gave himself to the feeling and flowed with it. The feel of his weight on his feet faded and between one deep breath and the next was replaced by that weight now being on his rear and the underside of his legs where he sat. Blake opened his eyes and saw the smiling face of his sweetheart close to his as she looked into them.

"Welcome back harbour-boy," Neeshka smiled, glancing down at his hands, "is that another bit of mask?"

"Aye, it seems these fragments are also fragments of memory," replied Blake, "that together they would make something greater."

"I am unsure where that unpleasant Bishop would fit," Gann commented, "unless it was more him being in the Wall of the Faithless than that it was him. But at the Mosstone we saw an image of the Red Woman who Akachi loved and just now we met a Boy who was Akachi's brother that stood with him in the Crusade."

"Two people important to Akachi," nodded Blake, "and if not a person then a location important to him in the other dream." Blake reached into his pack to draw out the other two mask fragments and lay them in his lap with the third. "So these may be the echo of Akachi himself. Which does not make me regard them with any great favour after seeing and having to deal with the consequences of his actions."

"And I doubt it would be as simple to reunite his fragments as it would be to glue those pieces of mask together," Gann added, "so what you are to do with those is a puzzle, perhaps, for another time. For now is there anything else we need to do here?"

"We visited the Hill Tribe, as planned," Blake thought aloud, "and dealt with the three other problems of Anya, the Durthans, and why the spirits here were inflamed."

"The Witches may be interested to hear of this…" Gann began.

"Is it _their_ concern, spawn-of-hags?" grumbled Okku, interrupting.

"Not of the details of your sacrifice, god-of-bears," Gann said, adding with a smile, "and for myself I would prefer to keep my mistake with Anya private."

Blake nodded. "We should return to Mulsantir, partially so the Witches can be informed of our fighting the Uthraki and the Durthans and what we have learned but mostly because Shadow Mulsantir is where we need to travel from. Either the portal to Thay or if we are to explore the Death God's Vault and see if that is where the Betrayer's Gate is."

"Could be a problem with that last bit harbour-boy," Neeshka pointed out. "You gave the key to the lower levels of the Vault, that replica of the Sword of Gith, to that sanctimonious Dove."

"I did," Blake winced. "I thought we had no reason to want to go down there so I could afford to let Kaelyn have what she sought."

"It could still work out," shrugged Gann. "I expect with how determined she was she will have used it, so we may find the gate open."

"Perseverance is part of Ilmater's creed…"

"So is martyrdom," Neeshka interrupted.

"True," agreed Blake with a sigh. "She may have 'persevered' enough to 'martyr' herself. If Tymorra smiled on her then she will have been victorious or at least lucky enough to escape. If Tymorra smiles on _us_ then she will have left the gate to the lower level open."

"Aim high harbour-boy," Neeshka winked, reaching out and ruffling his hair. "Hope for a big grin from _Lady Luck_ and that Dovey-Wovey cleared out a lot of undead or tripped most of the traps before she died."

"Or retreated," replied Blake. Then he cast Neeshka a slightly suspicious look as he wondered if she had deliberately missed that off. If she had meant that if they were very lucky then Kaelyn would have died as well as done significant damage to the dangers of the lower level.

"This will not help with the Betrayer's Gate itself," Gann commented, "so along with discovering how Nefris would speak to Myrkul we have a second thing to search for in Thay."

"I was hoping for many long years, preferably with Neeshka, before I saw any plane of death, so hopefully that is not necessary."

"Necessary or not we'd still search," Neeshka frowned, crossing her arms across her bosom. "It's the principle of the thing, like my coin, if someone steals something from you then you steal it right back. Even if it might be in bits again and even if you don't need it to open some gate."

Blake looked at Neeshka for a moment. From experience he knew better than to try to argue with her about if they needed to recover the Sword of Gith and he decided he was being over-suspicious about what fate she was wishing on Kaelyn. Reluctantly he dragged his eyes away from the pleasant sight of his sweetheart and to the more practical matter of judging how far above the surrounding hills the sun was. With the searching and the fighting and the dreaming it was far enough into the evening it might be better to set up camp here.

Or to not set up camp since as unpleasant as sharing a house with corpses would be they were well wrapped and still fresh and only laid out downstairs. There were still the rooms beneath the roof and those would be both safe enough to not sleep in armour and private and comfortable enough to do those things that would require a lack of armour and a supply of privacy. A tinge of colour crept into Neeshka's cheeks as Blake turned back at her and she saw the look in his eyes. But to her disappointment he closed his eyes and took a breath and his voice didn't say what his gaze had suggested.

"I can feel the spirits are still agitated by our presence," grated Blake, forcing the words out, "so we had best depart and try to reach a shelter before it gets dark."

"Agreed," Gann said, "I doubt the farmer would like us to presume on his hospitality again so soon. Though it is a shame as there was that house in which we could spend a night under a roof and in beds."

"I. Know," snarled Blake, taking another deep breath and moderating his tone at Gann's surprised expression. "And there were some other pools which were perhaps not as magical and so could have been bathed in," he added, trying to keep his voice light, "but not enough time if we are to reach a shelter as we'd need to take turns guarding."

"Ah, but would you be guarding our graceful Tiefling against enemies," Gann smiled, "or against me peeking?"

"Both," replied Blake, returning a half-smile.


	16. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

They made good time and the sun had not long set before they reached a shelter on the road. The glow of Okku's form was enough to let them see without spoiling their night vision like a torch or a spell of light and they could have kept going but there seemed no rush. A few hours saved continuing on into the night would only be a few hours rather than missing them some meeting or deadline. Blake did wonder though if a few more hours of walking might have tired him enough that sleep would not be so difficult to find. He was very happy to have Neeshka snuggled up against him, and he knew he would have felt guilty over causing the spirits pain so he could give her pleasure, but it was hard to not dwell on how much less sleep they would both be getting had they been in bed together in that house.

Morning eventually arrived and Blake was glad he had a beard as the way he felt he'd not have wanted to have to trust a blade near his face to shave. Even a smile from Neeshka did not shake the fatigue of the curse and of having only had a few restless hours sleep. A small fire within the stones laid out for that purpose in the shelter was enough to heat some water for tea and to then bake and crisp and draw more flavour out of some of the cold meats. Blake might also have boiled some eggs but those they were carrying had already been hard-boiled to make them less vulnerable to being cracked. As he alternated nibbles of egg and warmed cold meat Blake noticed that Okku was looking unsettled.

"If you wish to share then by all means. I know you do not _need_ to eat, and consider this carrion since it was not your own kill, but a few morsels for the taste can be spared and replenished once we reach Mulsantir again."

"No!" roared Okku, making Blake pause with a partially eaten boiled egg part way to his mouth. Okku took a moment to control his voice and continued. "I mean, thank you for the offer little-one but that does not smell as good to me as it might to you. That was _not_ what was on my thoughts."

"Then what, my friend?" Blake asked. "You seemed to be debating something with yourself, and my apologies that I mistook what."

"No apologies are needed," rumbled Okku, "or at least not from you." The bear-god hesitated again. "Little-one, your defence of me to my clan has shamed me."

"I don't see how…" Blake began, rather puzzled.

"When we first fought I gained an appreciation for your strength," replied Okku, "and that only increased when you defeated me with an army of spirits at my side."

"Gann and Neeshka, and Kaelyn and her siblings, did a great deal to help win that battle, my friend," Blake demurred, still not sure how he had shamed Okku, "and it was still hard fought. Enough to make me _very_ grateful I had reached Mulsantir and gained the extra help."

"And so you should be," nodded Gann. "Though I do wonder if without my advice about where to strike first you might still have won. While you were fruitlessly striking at Okku your graceful lady might have defeated enough of old father bear's army in guarding your back to have rendered him vulnerable."

"I know how much they did, little-one," Okku rumbled, ignoring Gann with the ease of practice, "and I know that when we started travelling together that, as much as they did, your might was not something I questioned."

Blake frowned. "The way you say that makes it sound like you did question something else?"

"At first I was concerned that you would revel in the ability to destroy," murmured Okku, sounding embarrassed at the admission as he continued. "Many spirit-eaters have done just that, given in to the hunger and embraced it, and though your willpower to rein in the attack on me was impressive that could have been eroded over time by your defiance of the wrath within you. But you have _not_ become the spirit-eater, not embraced the twisted power within you, and I am confident that you genuinely wish to end this curse."

"Took him long enough to be convinced," Neeshka muttered sourly to Blake.

"Thank you, my friend," said Blake, giving his sweetheart a quick glance. "It has been a struggle but thanks to your support, all of your support, I have managed."

"No, your mate has it right," Okku rumbled, turning yellow eyes on Neeshka and making her wonder how many other of her asides he had heard. "I should have admitted this long ago but… you defeated me before, twice, and if you did falter I did not want you to be even stronger when we fought again."

"Stronger?" asked Blake in surprise.

"My confidence in you, in my oath, has empowered my will," Okku replied. "I feel fearless and without concern and that has given me extra strength. It would have been of little effort to share some of that strength with you and you had more than earned it." He chuckled to himself. "As little as you have seemed to need that extra help, and whether or not you would have wanted that gift, you had earned it just the same."

"But you still had doubts?" nodded Blake understandingly. "Were still worried that the more I learned of this curse and its possible uses the more tempting it would become to experiment?"

Okku looked at Blake and at Neeshka sitting close beside him as she so often did, when she was not walking or standing nearly as close or lying even closer. Over the journey his more pressing doubt had become instead whether Blake would sacrifice Neeshka to defeat this curse and fulfil Okku's oath. That still seemed dubious to Okku but the little-one had shown he understood how many spirits might be devoured if they failed. Shown that he agreed how much was worth sacrificing to achieve success even if that agreement might only be with his mind rather than his heart.

"I had my doubts about that, but no longer," Okku rumbled, not mentioning his other doubts. "They had left me long ago, I think, but until I heard the conviction in your voice as you argued for the rightness of my oath I had not noticed their absence. I cannot relieve you of the hunger's burden but I can lend you my will in resisting it. I am here to help you, to protect you, and by making you stronger I do more to keep you safe than I ever could with tooth and claw."

Blake opened his mouth to ask the same sort of questions as when Gann had mentioned the Dreamer's Eye. Becoming stronger did seem like a good thing but he had tried to not become so accustomed to his magical items that removing them would make him feel crippled rather than normal. If Okku gave him strength and then that strength was lost or withdrawn then it could cause a similar problem. Before Blake could say anything though he felt the lingering fatigue leave him as Okku did not wait for permission. This was nowhere near as great a relief from the curse as when Blake had beseeched Chauntea for aid against the blight in the Ashenwood, but it was still enough that a slump Blake had not been aware of left his shoulders. He straightened slightly and decided to not protest, though he would be careful to keep his perspective on how much of his strength was now Okku's and how much his own or the effects of his magic or equipment.

"Thank you, my friend, both for the gift and for the faith in me that led you to give it."

Okku just rumbled, still looking a little embarrassed that he had not given this sooner, and Blake dropped the subject to continue his breakfast with less tiredness to interfere with his enjoyment of it. This eaten he donned the parts of his armour he had removed to sleep and made his persistent spells for the day ahead. Neither was necessary as nothing interfered with their travels and the rest of the day passed as quietly as the milestones. It was with some relief that Blake realised it was late enough they could stop and eat and rest again. Thankfully this time he was tired enough, despite the extra strength from Okku, that the feeling of his darling in his arms was comforting rather than frustrating with the armour separating them.

It was early afternoon the next day before the Walls of Mulsantir came into sight as they approached down the road from the North. Blake's mind was on what he was going to say to Sheva Whitefeather so at first he did not notice the group of people loitering near those walls. They looked like a family and had not triggered his instincts as a potential threat but, looking at them now he'd noticed them, it did seem strange they were there. The previous day he'd have been tired enough to not want to be bothered and he did remember Neeshka reminding him this was not his city. But the Witches and their Berserkers had not helped Shelvedar with his stuck wagon so with a sigh Blake decided to approach them and find out whether they needed assistance. This was neither a nice enough day nor that a nice enough spot for them to be enjoying the fresh air and they had an air of nervousness about them.

"Helpfulness!" Neeshka muttered.

"I know. I can no more help it than you can help being so beautiful in mind and spirit and body."

"Smooth talk doesn't help harbour-boy," Neeshka said, going a little pink and showing she was not as immune as she suggested, "and if you are not careful I'll think you've been taking lessons from Gann. But I _suppose_ this interfering is part of what I love about you."

"Papa, papa," said the little boy just as they got within easy hearing of the group, "whatever will we do without our wagon?"

"I don't know, son," sighed his papa. "I just... don't know."

"Greetings," Blake said. He'd hoped their lack of tents and supplies had shown that, despite the weather and location, they were just residents out for a short walk but they did not sound Rashemi. "You seem…"

"Papa! Papa!" the little boy cried, scurrying behind his mother. "It's the angry bear! It's come back for us."

The father turned and spread his arms defensively to block the way to his family. "Oh wrathful, heathen bear spirit, I respectfully request that you return to the hereafter and cause this humble family of Shou no further grief."

"What?" Blake blinked, surprised at the strange turn to the conversation, though pleased he was right about their accents.

"I did not intend…" rumbled Okku, also sounding surprised.

"No, Demon bear!" the father continued. "Please shut your carnivorous maw and find some _other_ prey."

"But I…"

"Ah! No, bear spirit," said the father, shrinking back a little, "don't eat us!"

Okku stared at the man for a moment before shrugging his huge shoulders. "Bah! There's no use talking to these superstitious folk. Perhaps you should return to speak with them without me."

"Or not return at all," Neeshka suggested, hoping her harbour-boy had discharged his helpfulness.

"Okku draws his strength from the land and from that lent him by other spirits," Blake said, disappointing Neeshka by persisting with the conversation. "Not from flesh and he was quite angered when he found some Telthors still eating such."

"I was more insulted that they were acting as scavengers rather than hunters," murmured Okku.

"Spirits _can_ still eat?" asked the father before pleading again. "Oh bear-spirit, please don't hunt us! We would not be challenging prey."

"I have _no_ intention of harming you," Okku rumbled angrily, his anger counter-productive to Blake's efforts to say he was not a threat.

"There's a splintered wagon out there containing all our goods of Shou that would argue differently," the father said, rallying slightly against his fear. "If only we'd never left glorious Shou. It would have saved this family from its present woe."

"You destroyed their wagon?" Blake asked, turning to Okku.

"I don't recall as such," replied Okku with genuine puzzlement.

The father looked at Blake as he realised this armoured man in the hat seemed to be at least partially on their side and at worst they could at least flee in the few seconds it would take the Demon-bear to kill and devour him. "We were travelling north, to sell our wares of Shou in Immilmar. We are not from this area, but we heard tales of fey spirits running wild, fomenting chaos."

"No more chaos than some of the civilised Gods," Gann interrupted. "Such as the one that has caused much of the present trouble."

"Was none of the true Gods that sent a _fell host_ of terrifying spirit creatures," declared the father, "led by this monstrous bear-thing and that trampled over our wagon of Shou to smash it and some of our goods."

"None of them sent the spirits directly but, as Gann said, one did create the problem those spirits were reacting to," Blake said to the father before turning once more to Okku. "You smashed their wagon?"

"As I say, I don't recall as such," rumbled Okku, "but the rage was upon me and I did not care to go around whatever obstacles were in my path."

Blake nodded to Okku, realising he had been hanging around the bear-god for too long as that actually seemed fair. "Very well," Blake said, turning back to the father. "We bear…" He stopped as he realised the pun. "We _have_ some responsibility for your loss…"

"Harbour-boy!" hissed Neeshka in irritation, that was too helpful even for him.

"So how can we help?" Blake finished.

"Well, we need a wagon to retrieve our goods and complete our trek to Immilmar," said the father, still sounding very unsure. "If you could enter the city and purchase a new wagon for us, we would pay you for your trouble and the cost of the wagon."

"That seems simple enough," Blake said, frowning a little in suspicion as he added, "though perhaps too simple."

"What sort of con are you trying to pull?" Neeshka asked accusingly. "I know how far it is from his barrow," she said, jerking her thumb at Okku, "and how long ago it was he'd have squashed your wagon between there and here."

"I'd have put it more diplomatically," Blake nodded, "but it does seem that unless you travelled very slowly you must have been here long enough to have already bought your own wagon."

"We saw the lights of this city, far away," the father replied dolefully. "So we travelled here looking for shelter and a replacement wagon, but found neither. We cannot enter the city."

"Have the gates been barred?" Blake asked, worried and glancing towards them.

"No, but as soon as we came close to the city we were approached by a mask-wearing heathen witch!" explained the father, eyes widening a little like a respectable matron being mistaken for a lady of loose skirts. "We ran back to here, and now this family of Shou does not know what to do. Unless _you_ can help."

"You were scared away by a _single_ witch?" Gann asked in disbelief. "When travelling through a country _run_ by them? And in any case the witches are not heathen."

"Oh, they're heathens for sure. They wear masks to hide their shame from Lathander, the one _true_ god!" scoffed the father, his self-righteousness overwhelming his common sense as he sneered slightly at Gann. "Anyway we cannot enter a place run by heathens."

"I _say_ we leave these people to rot," Gann said, turning to Blake, some anger in his eyes and voice though his expression remained calm. "You and I may disagree about your gods but you don't belittle the spirits and I don't belittle your faith. Much."

"We _are_ wasting time little-one," growled Okku, drawing the eyes of the father to him and causing the boy to huddle closer to his mother.

Neeshka winced a little as she saw some colour had seeped up her harbour-boy's neck and that his hand had gone to the hilt of his sword. "I have seen their shrine and the statues of the Three," Blake said, eyes narrowed and an undercurrent of anger beneath each word. "The only Druid I knew worshipped Silvanus rather than Mielikki but... are you calling the people of my _home village_ 'heathen' because as farmers they preferred Chauntea to Lathander despite Brother Merring's efforts? Are you calling _me_ 'heathen' because as a Wizard I give frequent thanks to Mystra?"

"They were concerned I might eat them," chuckled Okku, "perhaps they should have considered where their words might cause other offence."

"Despite the temptation to follow Gann's advice," Blake continued after a deep breath, "and leave you the choice of abandoning your goods or having to enter the city yourself I shall still help. If there _is_ a wagon for sale then I shall purchase it for you."

"Thank you so much!" said the father, looking a little relieved as Blake's hand left his sword hilt. "We will be so happy to leave this place."

"And I am sure the spirits of this place will be _so_ happy when you leave," Gann replied.

"Papa?" the little boy asked, peeking out from behind his mother. "Are they gonna help us get a new wagon?"

"Yes, my son, I believe so," said his papa, turning to look at him. "Remember this, even heathens can show good manners. Sometimes."

Neeshka opened her mouth at this confirmation that he _was_ calling her harbour-boy a heathen. But Blake caught her eye and gave an eloquent shrug so she just nodded to him rather than waste her breath on insulting them back. They moved back to the road and along it to the city gates where they got the usual dubious look from the Berserker Guards. The residents of Mulsantir though seemed to have become rather blasé and the noise and bustle of the marketplace continued unabated rather than hushing as it had on Okku's first visit inside the walls after he had been laying siege. Okku ignored that they were ignoring him as that was not something worthy of a god-of-bears to notice. Gann however looked a little insulted that his return had brought so little in the way of response.

"And now there is a second temptation," Blake commented, looking around. "To _now_ follow Gann's advice and leave them out there waiting fruitlessly."

"We were planning on travelling by portal rather than out the gates again," Neeshka smiled, reaching out to cup his cheek affectionately for a moment, "but I know you are soft-hearted."

"Aye," sighed Blake, rejecting the temptation, "let's spend a few minutes to see if we can, as Gann said, spare the spirits of the land from those people's presence."

On the basis that his goods seemed to have been shipped in from further away and so he'd have more reason to know caravan merchants Blake decided to speak to Azim at the rear of the market. Seeing his approach the stall keeper smiled in welcome and sketched a half-bow. "Well met again my friend, but I regret that if you are here to sell then we cannot deal. As worthwhile it has been to buy your things I cannot, alas, give a price that would satisfy your lady as a fair one until I sell some."

"Fortunately we are here to buy," Blake replied. "That is if you have a wagon suitable for a family of merchants? Or know someone who has."

"A strange request coming from you to be sure," said Azim, his eyes wandering over the quartet of bear-god and Hagspawn and armoured and cloaked, "but I do have just the thing. A fine, sturdy wagon, barely used. It can be yours for the modest price of ten thousand gold."

"Modest?" Neeshka repeated. "Hah!"

"Modest _considering_ the lack of wagons," replied Azim firmly. "Yes, with a normal supply the price would be much less or I would be willing to haggle and enjoy testing my skills in such a contest. But this happens to be the only wagon available in all of Mulsantir."

"That seems unlikely," Blake said flatly.

"Ah, but it is true and, with respect, true because of your comrade the revered Okku," nodded Azim. "When he arrived with his army the citizens here bought all the wagons they could. And with the even less modest prices they paid they are reluctant to sell and admit how much coin they lost in buying and selling."

"Very well, then I shall pay your price," nodded Blake back, ignoring Neeshka's 'what?' of protest, "deliver the wagon to the Shou family outside of Mulsantir's gates."

"Certainly my friend," Azim replied, "I'll see that your purchase is delivered immediately! And a pleasure to do business once more."

"Maybe too much pleasure," Neeshka muttered as Blake steadily counted out the asking price. Thankfully Azim had a wooden counting board to slot horizontal stacks of coins into and an abacus to keep track of each board-full.

Leaving Azim to deal with the delivery Blake strode up the hill from the marketplace, through the inner gates and past the Temple of Kelemvor and the Berserker Lodge and its ever-vigilant spirit-badger. This did not dare to approach and hiss but did glare at them as they passed. As they neared the Witches Blake paused to look at the statues of the Three, then muttered something very uncomplimentary about people from Shou. Gann nodded, Neeshka giggled, and even Okku murmured in agreement. Blake blushed very slightly as he'd not meant to mutter loud enough to be heard and then resumed walking towards Sheva. She nodded to Katya and Kazimika and then gazed calmly at him.

"Our wisdom is yours for the asking Blake," Sheva greeted. "How do the spirits keep you?"

"They keep me well Madame Whitefeather," Blake replied politely. "There are a couple of matters though which I thought you should be informed of."

"Speak," said Sheva simply.

"We travelled to the Wells of Lurue," Blake reported. "I had been approached near the gates here by a little girl who claimed her grandfather had knowledge of this curse and that you Witches had long been hunting her tribe."

"And did she mention any reason why we would do such?" asked Sheva.

"Not directly," Blake replied, "though that she had referred to the curse as a gift made it understandable even before she and the other members of her tribe reverted to their true Uthraki forms and her grandfather accused me of 'betraying the gift' by not devouring Okku. We'd expected this meeting to be a trap and were prepared, so when he said he would kill me slowly in the hope the 'gift' would pass to him we instead killed him and the rest of his Hill Tribe more swiftly."

"Not all of them," muttered Gann, "which I still think could come back to bite us. Literally."

Seeing Sheva's questioning look Blake continued. "We spared the children, and I told them I'd cast a spell that would let you track them with a stone I'd give you. But I also told them I would give you that stone only if you swore to not hunt them while they restricted themselves to prey that cannot talk."

"The Hill Tribe has long been a blight on our lands," Sheva frowned. "Do you suggest we not try to finish what you almost did?"

"And do you expect us to swear _such_ an oath?" Kazimika added.

"The oath would be irrelevant as the spell was nothing but a bluff," replied Blake, inclining his head to Kazimika before returning his attention to Sheva. "As to the other I… don't know." Blake shook his head. "Morally I prefer to not kill children, of whatever race. Dispassionately I don't think they have any special knowledge or the strength to be of use to you, unlike the Lizardfolk I brokered a peace with on the Sword Coast. Hunt them if you wish and if you feel that is best for your people and your land."

Sheva nodded. Their decisions would be their decisions rather than influenced by some foreigner but it was good that he recognised this rather than presume to dictate to them. "And the second matter?"

"There was a house in the gullies, and outside it were a group of Durthans. Like the Uthraki U'juk they wanted to kill me in the hope the curse would pass to one of them so they could use it against you… your name was specifically mentioned Madame Whitefeather… but like U'juk they also lie dead." Blake reached into his pack to withdraw a sheaf of papers and a key. "Inside their house where we placed their corpses they had these records of bribes given. They naturally were not foolish enough to use real names but perhaps you can link the figures to people who acquired similar amounts of wealth."

"You have performed us more services," Sheva replied graciously, taking the papers and the house key, "if both in self-defence, and you have our thanks. We shall consider what actions we need to take."

Blake half-bowed to her and turned and walked away. Neeshka hesitated though and only strutted after her harbour-boy when she was sure there was going to be no tangible reward for their good deeds. Sure it had been fight or die but they hadn't needed to take the trouble to tell the Witches about things or let them have that house key. Someone might have paid good coin for a house or, if the spirits had calmed down by the time they freed Blake of this curse, they could have spent a few days there 'relaxing' before trying to make the long journey back to the Sword Coast.

The spirit-badger outside the Berserker Lodge started hissing and growling at them when Blake slowed so, rather than upset it, he walked a little further towards the prison. "Right, I think we are agreed we have to go to Thay? For the Sword of Gith to make Neeshka happy and because it would be so difficult to attempt to recreate Nefris' research?"

"Even without those reasons I would still wish to go there little-one," rumbled Okku. "Fighting Red Wizards would be a pleasure rather than a chore to me and we have not yet revenged ourselves for Nakata."

"Aye, to the Hells with them all," Blake agreed. "One faction kidnapped and enmeshed me in their plot and the other tried to kill me and has hampered my attempts to un-mesh myself. But I am still concerned over fighting an entire Academy."

"I am confident in our skills," Gann said smoothly, "but unfortunately also confident we would not be able to get any help without Magda suffering. We would have to reveal the Room of Doors and, though you are getting on better with them now, you have seen that the Witches can be suspicious and intolerant."

"And in this case with good reason," nodded Blake. "If this were a similar situation in Neverwinter or Crossroad Keep I'd not call Magda's actions treasonous, but that would just mean Exile rather than Execution. So no help from the Witches and I doubt the Berserkers would travel with us unless ordered to do so by them. And even if they would travel with us I doubt they would keep the secret of the portal."

"There were those two initiates…" Neeshka began to suggest before her voice and expression turned dubious, "though they probably wouldn't be much help. And they'd want to tell the head of their lodge what they were going to do."

"So just us then," Blake said.

"Just?" rumbled Okku.

"True, cannot really say 'just' a bear-god," Blake smiled, "though thinking of your might does make me wonder. Visiting the Death God's Vault seemed something to only do if we needed to, but we may be better prepared for Thay if we do go and grant some there rest to get some spirit essences for… ah…"

"Nak'kai," Gann supplied as Blake searched his memory for the name.

"Yes, him," Blake nodded, "though I do still have qualms about using this curse, even on Undead, to provide those essences."

"Our shared purpose strengthens us both, little one," murmured Okku. "I need no further strengthening if this would erode your control of the hunger."

"Very well then, to Thay next and hopefully answers…"

"And loot," added Neeshka.

"But first we had best check on that family of Shou," Blake finished.

"Why?" Gann asked with what sounded like genuine puzzlement. "We have already done them more service than they deserve."

"Maybe so, but there is the chance they are honest enough to be waiting to repay us," smiled Blake.

"Aha!" grinned Neeshka in sudden understanding. "So that was why you didn't haggle, you were spending _their_ gold so no need to spend _your_ time."

"I thought it was because I was just a poor dumb heathen," Blake replied deadpan.

They returned down the hill and as they neared the marketplace Azim waved and smiled and gestured towards the city gates. Blake waved and nodded back to him while hoping he was right in thinking what those gestures meant. Leaving the city once more Blake peered to the north and was relieved to see a wagon and figures moving about there. It at least appeared that Azim had made his delivery and the family of Shou was still there. For a moment Blake was tempted to sacrifice the coin just to not have to speak with them again, but he was trying to avoid losing sight of how much money was worth despite the wealth he'd acquired. Besides this return was more so the family of Shou knew the business was complete and they could leave rather than continue to wait.

"There's our saviour!" the father cried, catching sight of the approaching group. "Thank you very much for getting this wagon delivered to us. Now we can go recover our trampled supplies of Shou and take what remains up north."

"So you can," Blake replied, "though there is the matter of repaying the purchase price."

The father hesitated. "Did you really pay ten-thousand?"

"I did. Why?" asked Blake. "Are wagons not worth that much?"

"It _was_ expensive," replied the father.

"My apologies then," Blake nodded. "You might have got a better deal, despite the shortage, as you are a merchant but I don't have much experience with wagons..."

Neeshka gave a little snort and though she managed to stifle anything more her eyes glittered slightly with the effort. Gann glanced to her but fortunately the father was still intent on Blake and did not seem to notice, or did not want to notice and risk trouble. There was still the looming form of the 'Demon-bear' and the father had angered Blake before so politeness seemed wise.

"I did say I would repay you, even though you associate with the creature that splintered our old wagon," replied the father, his eyes flicking to Okku, "so here is your payment, stranger. Now, if there's nothing else, we need to prepare for our trip. We were due in Immilmar more than a moon ago and the Golden Way is long and winding."

"Shaundakul bless your travels," Blake said, turning and leading the way back towards the city gates.

As they reached what he judged a safe distance Gann looked again at Neeshka and her efforts. "You seem amused by something."

Neeshka turned twinkling eyes to Gann and then looked at Blake before releasing a burst of giggles. For a few moments as they walked that was the only sound she could make but as the pent-up pressure was released she was finally able to speak. "Not much experience with wagons!" she managed to squeeze out before another quick fit of giggling took her.

"I still don't see the joke," Gann replied, his puzzlement not helping Neeshka to get her giggling under control. "Your paramour doesn't seem like, and never mentioned, being a trader."

"Do you know how many wagons it takes to haul enough stone to rebuild a keep?" asked Neeshka, managing to reduce her amusement to 'just' a brilliant grin. "Or for repairing roads? Or how many might pass along those roads and through that keep?"

"Ah, not really," Gann said smoothly, "though from your reaction I take it that Blake does."

Blake had been looking at Neeshka as she giggled and although he was happy she was happy there had been a definite air of puzzlement about him. "I did have to decide a few times whether to buy another wagon," he admitted, still sounding not sure why his words had been so amusing. "Whether one was needed and whether the price being asked was a fair one. Or if a Wright had overcharged for repairs to one of the keep wagons or that of a merchant."

"Which does sound like you know the cost of wagons," Gann smiled, "and I note you did not invite them, unlike Shelvedar, to trade your way."

"Ah, but they cannot enter a place run by a heathen," nodded Blake, "and they did call me such even if I _was_ a well mannered one."

The guards at the city gate looked rather surprised to see them again so soon and one muttered something to his friend about how the foreigner was fortunate to have mighty Okku to remind him of whatever it was he had forgotten to take. Rather than inform them of the true reason, and of what he thought about them having not already aided the family of Shou, Blake just continued on to the Veil Theatre. As they entered the wide double doors a snippet of dialog and the appearance of some of the props gave Blake a suspicion about what they were rehearsing. Magda turned and bustled towards them to greet them rather than continue shouting directions up at the stage.

"Milord, our thanks again," Magda said, confirming Blake's suspicion as she continued, "Vesper has been able to make what I think you will agree is a fine play from what you shared with us."

Blake cast an eye over the three actors on the stage and wondered who they were meant to be. Costumes and make-up would come later and just standing there their body language gave few clues. But Amber was wearing a long skirt and not much on her upper half so she perhaps was going to play Zhjave and it seemed without the detail of that Githzerai cleric wearing armour when appropriate. Strangely though she was holding a sickle.

"There seems two options," nodded Blake, looking back to Magda. "You are either making this accurate so I don't regret telling the tale or you are changing so much that I could regard it as only 'inspired by' rather than being about myself and my friends."

"More the latter milord," Magda replied, "as we said before we are only a small theatre company and combining characters does alter the flow of things."

"I see that you are using a traditional method to keep the audience's attention," smiled Gann, "and you are fortunate to have an actress in Amber who is beautiful as well as talented enough to carry this out."

"Why the sickle?" Blake asked, as Amber tried to pose and maximise the effect of her outfit at Gann.

"Simply put milord it is easier to give Amber brown hair and Elven ears than to make so much of her skin green," smiled Magda, "and you did say how making your companion Zhjave younger made her sound more like your Elven druid Elanee."

"She was never 'his' Druid," Neeshka winked, "however much she wanted to be."

"Er, yes," Blake said, glancing at the happy Neeshka before returning his attention to Magda. "So combine a Druid's sickle with the outfit Zhjave wore… when she was unarmoured… rather than Zhjave's weapons with the more concealing clothes Elanee wore."

"As wise Gannayev said, the former would be the more traditional," replied Magda, "but I am sure this was not why you have visited us milord."

"We are going to use the portal in Lienna's secret room, but I would also ask you to buy some new sheets."

Magda looked almost as puzzled as Neeshka and the others, though this did not stop her from taking the coins Blake offered. "New sheets? Those you used were not _that_ dirty after you used them."

"Glad to hear it," Blake replied with a slight smile, noting the emphasis, "but my intent is to clear some of the corpses in the Shadow Veil. They are not rotting there but they are untidy and it makes more sense to use old sheets to wrap them than to buy and use new for this."

"Ah, you are a sensible lad," smiled Magda. "If only these rogues here had your foresight. Your mother raised you well."

"Foster-father," Blake reminded her flatly.

"Oh, of course, my apologies milord," apologised Magda hurriedly, "you did mention about your mother and the shard."

"I've been trying to keep him well trained," Neeshka grinned.

"And doing a fine job of it," said Gann, with a nod to her, "despite the notable lack of opportunities for you to use a carrot rather than a stick… or rather, I should say, the lack of opportunity for him to use _his_ carrot."

"More like a cucumber," Neeshka replied with another wink.

"Er-herm," said Blake eloquently before rallying. "In any case half-a-dozen sheets should be enough."

"Of course Milord," Magda agreed, happily planning where she could get some cheap sheets to have plenty of money left over.

They continued on to the back room, the actors standing respectfully aside for Okku and the actress giving Gann another smouldering look and smile. Neeshka rolled her eyes to show her opinion to Blake as they caught each other's gaze and he had to swallow a laugh. As long as it had taken him to realise that Neeshka and Elanee were competing for him Blake did not think even he could have mistaken that much lack of subtlety. As they got closer to the corner of Lienna's bedroom the portal responded to the Shadow Stone coming closer and swirled into appearance. They stepped through and into the grey colourless dimness of the Shadow Plane.

Entering the room with the portals Gann nodded across to the one marked 'disposal' and what was piled in front of it. "Looking at that I wonder about you thinking only six sheets would suffice," he commented. "Those Gargoyle corpses are large and still seem quite damp."

"It is because they are large, my friend," Blake replied. "They'd need something larger than sheets and they are, despite Okku's ease in the task, rather heavy to move and wrap."

"Hrm. If you can get that Golem to open a portal it would be simple to throw them through, little-one," rumbled Okku. "Without needing to wrap them."

"The problem with that is if this opens outside we do not want to mark its location with corpses," Blake replied. "Nor to attract Wyverns to there, though they would at least reduce the pile…" Blake hesitated a moment. "Assuming those Gargoyles taste edible?"

"They were not that pleasant," complained Okku, "though I remember enough of flesh to know how hunger can make things more tolerable."

"Wait, you say _if_ this opens outside?" Gann asked.

Neeshka nodded as she removed and folded her cloak. "When I chased those things," she replied, gesturing at the Gargoyles, "we came out in a short side valley off the road towards the academy. That was where Nefris returned to, probably from here after cutting my harbour-boy open." Neeshka broke off a moment for some muttered cursing and to put her cloak in her bag. "But when she sent her daughter to Okku's barrow she used a portal in a room in her tower."

"So I'm not sure if this portal will link to the one outside or the one inside, likely outside as if she could have returned to her tower then she would have done rather than walk, I suppose. This gives us the problem of getting into the academy and gives me something to check."

Blake crossed to the Golem that the Hags of the Slumbering Coven had described as the Keeper of Doors when they advised begging passage of it. He looked at the impassive clay figure and though it showed no signs of noticing him he remembered that they had learned on the previous visit that it only responded to words directly addressed to it. "Golem, do you hear me?"

"State your command," replied the Keeper of Doors.

"Tell me of the door marked 'outgoing', the fourth door. Where does it go?"

"Wherever paths have been laid for it," said the Keeper of Doors, "Listing. The Academy of Shapers and Binders in Thay. The Barrow of the Bear-God Okku. No other destinations."

"Does it link to the portal in the tower or the valley?"

"Unknown," the Keeper of Doors replied. "The path leads where it leads."

Blake nodded and turned back to the others. "Only one way to find out it seems."

"Then let us be about this, little-one," Okku rumbled.

"Hopefully we won't have to go from here to Thay and then from Thay back to your barrow my friend," Blake smiled, turning back to the Keeper of Doors. "I'd like to open one of the doors."

"State your command," said the Keeper of Doors again. "What door shall I open?"

"Fourth Door. Outgoing. Academy of Shapers and Binders," Blake commanded simply.

"That path was shut by the Red Wizard, Nefris, when she last departed the Room of Doors," stated the Keeper of Doors, almost frowning. Blake drew in breath to curse but the Golem continued. "Shall I break the seals she set in place?"

"Go ahead. Break them and open the door."

For a while nothing happened as the Keeper of Doors continued to stand impassively between the bookshelves. But then gradually a swirl of colour and clouds began to fill the frame of the portal to prove this was working rather than the Golem having become dormant again. Last minute doubts started to crowd in on Blake and he looked at Neeshka and wished once more that he could find some way to leave her where she would be safer. Unfortunately she would not stand for that and in any case he did not think Rashemen would be that safe for a lone Tiefling even with the skills she possessed.

"The seals are withdrawn," the Keeper of Doors said, slightly unnecessarily. "The way is open."

"Good," Blake nodded, leading the way into the portal before he felt any more strongly that this was a bad idea.

A moment of disorientation and the calm and darkness of the room in the Shadow Veil was replaced by wind and the smell of dust. Gann looked around in distaste as he took in the barren scenery and sensed the surroundings with more than his physical perceptions. "What a desolate place," he commented quietly. "I hope the few spirits I feel that have escaped the attentions of its Red Wizards will be able to aid me enough."

"Hrm, as quickly as these Red Wizards would be replaced," growled Okku, "feeling their effects on the land here gives me fresh reason to want them dead."

Blake nodded to them both and looked at the portal hanging there, an oval of colour without a frame to contain it, and dredged up what he remembered from Aldanon's discussions of how he would teleport them to the fortress of the King of Shadows. Teleportation was not something he had studied in great depth but he had managed to learn enough to not be completely baffled by what Aldanon was saying. Or not baffled by the magic at least, the old sage's metaphors and sudden changes of subject had been even less easy to follow.

As Blake muttered some words in the language of magic and made a few arcane gestures the portal suddenly shrank away into nothing.

"Oh," Gann began to say, "I suppose we did not want that visible to passers-by but…"

Blake made another set of gestures and recited more words and the portal reappeared. Then he repeated the first set and it vanished once more.

"Seems I can open and close it," Blake sighed, "but I don't know how long that will remain possible. I'm only manipulating the link created and maintained by the Keeper of Doors so if it closes that link we are stuck."

"Then we shall hurry, little-one," replied Okku, starting towards the road.

"Wait!" Neeshka almost squeaked. "If you go out there they will see you."

"And?" asked Okku, with what sounded like genuine puzzlement.

"I think Neeshka would prefer a more subtle approach," Blake smiled, "as would I. A little of the Red Knight's strategy to mix with Tempus or Clangeddin's battle."

"We should be able to get close in the hills," nodded Neeshka. "I'm not sure if I can get you in but we can get within sight. Have to be careful though in case they replaced the traps I disabled."

"If you managed it once," said Gann reassuringly, "I am sure you could do so again."

"Of course," Neeshka replied, trying to not sound too pitying at Gann having missed the point, "but if they found the traps were disabled then they know someone disabled them."

"Ah," breathed Gann, "and that would rather spoil the element of surprise you and your paramour, if not old father bear, seem to favour."

Ignoring Okku's harrumph of agreement Neeshka stalked over to a section of valley wall that appeared no different to the rest. "This way," she said before starting up the sheer slope.

He'd assumed it was her pretty perky horns that had gained her the insulting nickname 'goat girl' but seeing her climb, and nearly slipping as he paid too much attention to the view of her from beneath, Blake did wonder if he had been mistaken. They'd not spent much time in the mountains, but he'd heard the tales and they'd seen a few of those local goats and their abilities. With remarkable speed and very few dislodged pebbles Neeshka reached the top and a moment later peered back over the edge at their slower progress.

Okku was doing well with how his claws dug through the thin layer of soil into the rock beneath and Gann was lightly armoured and fairly agile. Blake had to be careful though as, even without considering his sword and shield and even with how much lighter Mithril was than Iron, his full plate was still quite a weight on the hand and foot holds. It was not that he risked losing his grip, since his belt of strength helped with that, as much as he had to make sure that what he was holding would not tear free. Neeshka frowned a little at them and the trail they were leaving with Blake and Okku having to dig deeper for a grip and then vanished.

Suddenly as Blake looked for another handhold he found a rope appear by his face and nearly knock his hat off. Glancing up he saw Neeshka grin to him so he reached for the rope instead and with that to pull himself up with his progress notably improved. Gann continued climbing until it was his turn but as he noticed Blake start to pull the rope up he looked puzzled for a moment before he realised that Okku's bulk meant it would be impossible to just try to swing the rope across. Of course had he been foolish enough to comment Neeshka would have pointed out that would also leave a lot of scrapes.

Reaching the top to join the others Gann glanced back down at the determinedly climbing form of Okku. "I'd say lower the rope for him," Gann murmured to Blake and Neeshka, "but I think he would only be able to take it in his teeth and that the rope would fare as poorly as anything else that finds itself in his jaws."

"Aye," Blake said, hauling in the rope again. One he had drawn it in Blake continued. "Hold this here, please."

Gann looked at the rope and the boulder it was firmly wrapped around but before he could do more than that Blake had moved a few feet away so they were either side of Okku's path. Slowly Blake paid out the rope so a curve of it extended down towards Okku. As this reached the bear-god's nose due to it getting lower and him getting higher Okku sniffed at it and then gave Blake a glower that eloquently conveyed both puzzlement and deep insult at the idea he might need any aid. Blake tossed his head a few times at Okku as if he had hair as long as Gann's and was trying to flick it back from over his face. Okku glowered a little more but shoved his nose under the rope and with one heave of his neck flung it back over himself as Blake released the few feet of slack he'd made ready.

The curve of rope just about made it low enough to be past Okku's hump and as Blake continued to release more rope and Okku to stubbornly climb this curve stroked down Okku's spine and over his rear. Then Blake pulled back and the curve shortened to settled snugly across the bear-god's rump just below his tail. Okku managed to control the roar of surprise prompted by having only half expected this. He had more trouble though with the roar of displeasure Blake starting to haul provoked. The rope went taut and Gann tried to pull as well and take some of the strain off the boulder.

"I am not a donkey to be encouraged up a hill," Okku growled softly but menacingly as he reached the top of the slope.

Gann smiled and opened his mouth to speak but the look in the yellow eyes Okku turned his way caused the witticism about ropes and 'asses' to stick in his throat. Had he been more confident in how to phrase it he still might have attempted the joke but that glare was enough extra discouragement, this time.

"You do not have to prove your might to us, my friend," Blake calmly replied, coiling the rope as Neeshka unwrapped the other end from the boulder. "Nor do you have to stand on your dignity. We know you and would not respect you less for accepting whatever aid we can offer."

"Hrmrm," grumbled Okku.

Neeshka shrugged to Blake as she finished detaching the rope from the boulder and then started on smearing the dirt to make it less obvious where the rope had rubbed the boulder slightly cleaner. There was a slight sound of distant hissing and Gann decided to ask the question he'd intended to ask before Neeshka began up the slope. Traps might not be a problem but they had mentioned something that might be.

"With her grace," Gann commented, "I am not surprised that Neeshka was stealthy enough to move unseen…"

"It was night as well," admitted Neeshka.

"But their noises and your mention of them does make we wonder about the Wyverns," Gann concluded. "We know they are foolish enough to attempt to prey on such as old father bear so they could be a problem."

Blake smiled slightly. "Do you remember how Neeshka and I met?"

"You saved her from…" a puzzled Gann started. Then in deference to Neeshka he restarted. "You helped her against some thugs in uniform."

"Because?"

"Because you are a good person," frowned Gann to Blake, still not seeing the relevance. "Because you could not just walk by when someone was in danger, and that it was a pretty girl to rouse your chivalrous instincts only added to this."

"Er, thank you," Blake replied, a little embarrassed by the assessment as he pulled a bottle out of his pack, "though the answer I was thinking of was because she had been sold a watered down invisibility potion."

"That as well," smiled Gann, seeing Neeshka had taken out an identical bottle. "And I take it that those are _not_ watered down? And are the answer to my question?"

"Have to circle quite wide to avoid being heard or smelt," Neeshka nodded, "but should manage with these."

"Smelt," grumbled Okku, "my spirit-form does not get dirty or sweaty and smelly, unlike some mortals."

"And my footsteps don't jar small rodents from their burrows with their heaviness," Neeshka retorted.

The two glared at each other for a moment before the mood passed with the suddenness of all of the bear-god's moods and he chuckled. He appreciated Neeshka's feistiness as he would a ferret's and he even considered her worthy of pouring the invisibility potion into his mouth. Blake was not sure if the potion would work on Okku since the bear-god lacked flesh and digestion. Okku did fade from sight though and whether it had been the potion or whether him thinking it would work was enough for his spirit-form to respond to those thoughts seemed irrelevant.

Spells cast to let them see through each other's invisibility they continued on with Neeshka in the lead. She winced to herself a few times at the amount of noise they and the Wyverns were making. As careful as they were to keep a distance from the nests and as expensive and effective as the high quality invisibility potions had been the Wyverns could still sense something was moving out there. Okku began to look grumpy again as the desire to roar back and silence this impertinent defensive hissing grew and began to feel more important than the need to not betray their presence. Sneaking about was not worthy of a god-of-bears, but at least muttering about how unworthy it was did help release some of his anger.

Despite how long it felt to Okku they quite soon reached a vantage point from where they could view the Academy. "Bloody Wyverns," Blake muttered, glancing back towards where the hissing was subsiding now they were no longer moving. Then he looked ahead and seemed impressed as he saw the building looming against the night sky. "Can you really sneak into there, my love?"

Neeshka grinned prettily to him. "As Gann would say 'As easy as dreaming'."

"Do not take too long in this dream then," Blake smiled back, "or my nightmares would bring me smashing in the front door. Which Okku would appreciate."

"Aww," replied Neeshka, cupping the side of Blake's face in her palm, "I'll try to be back soon enough you won't be too worried. Love you though."

They settled down to wait and though the potions wore off long before Neeshka returned they'd taken the chance to conceal themselves in a dip in the ground. Okku was the main problem as his spirit-form was large and colourful, but he reluctantly agreed to have a tent-cloth draped over him and the arid terrain was fairly close in colour to the unbleached canvas. Blake found himself looking again and again at the tower and each time feeling even more impressed that Neeshka had managed to climb the outside of it. He jumped a little as Neeshka plopped down beside him and grinned at his reaction.

"Miss me?"

"No more than you can imagine," replied Blake.

"Tower room was a lot less tidy than the last time I saw it…"

"You climbed it again?" Blake interrupted. "So fast? You really are exceptional my darling."

Neeshka blushed lightly as she continued. "There were a lot of scorch marks on the wall, the shelves were ransacked, what you'd expect from searching and fighting."

"Does sound a mess," Blake nodded, "and that even if they were not looking for the same things as us, and had not already found them, that their efforts would make it more difficult for us to find anything."

"Oh, I didn't do too badly," smiled Neeshka, "and we might still be in luck. This book looked interesting and I took a good look at the door the other portal is past."

"Aye?" Blake asked as he took the book and started to flip through it while listening.

"Still sealed and still intact despite obvious efforts to break it open, so whatever is behind it is worth protecting and worth getting. I tried stabbing one corner of it with my dagger in case it was less proof to steel than magic but couldn't even scratch it. And no keyhole, just four recesses and an inscription."

"So could be Nefris' records are still waiting for us, if we can get the door… open…" Blake stuttered to a stop. His eyes widened slightly as he realised what he was reading and he cursed a little under his breath. "Gods, I've never been hugely devout, but I've believed in the sanctity of the soul and being able to see and feel spirits has only strengthened that. These people though… they seem to be trying to manipulate souls, to split them and combine them and even create them."

"Create them?" asked Gann. "Food for the spirit-eater?"

"I don't know…I can barely follow these equations," Blake admitted. "But it seems…"

"Seems what?" prompted Gann.

"Seems there was a key hidden in the book," Blake replied, holding it up. "What I was going to say though was that it seems they were not having much success with their blasphemous experiments."

"Read the inscription harbour-boy," said Neeshka, handing over the note she'd made, "they might have been having some success."

"Hmm?" Blake murmured as his eyes flicked across the paper. "Oh… poetry" he said before reading aloud with some sarcasm. "Four wayward souls, four incomplete… unique in flaw, with fates forgone. Four hidden now, each place discreet… assemble here, advance the pawn. Imitated and damned, imagined and splintered…four reunited souls, their door thus re-entered."

"Kind of you to say 're-inter-ed'," smiled Gann. "And 'advance the pon'."

"Is it just me," Blake frowned and not commenting he could have said 'forgawn', "or does it seem from this attempt at rhyming, and there being four recesses, that Nefris decided to use souls as nothing but keys to her door?"

"I cannot argue with your interpretation," sighed Gann. "It does sound like they are warping people's spirits for the pettiest purposes."

"And I have the feeling that I know who 'advance the pawn' refers to," Neeshka scowled, "and nobody uses _my_ harbour-boy as a pawn."

"Let us leave this place a charnel house," growled Okku.

"Agreed, no mercy, no survivors," Blake nodded. "How to get in though without providing too much warning?"

"Would any warning be too much?" asked Okku confidently.

"Perhaps not," Blake admitted, "though as a Wizard I know how much difference having a few seconds to let Mystra aid you can make."

"I have an idea," smiled Neeshka, pulling out one of the many scrolls she'd found.

=x=x=x=  
==x==x==x==x==  
=x=x=x=

It seemed a waste of time to be out here watching an empty road where Wyverns could get them but the Gnolls were not going to argue with Red-Wizard-Masters. Not when some of their packmates had not returned from being sent out with other Red-Wizard-Masters. Better to not complain and risk being sent somewhere that was even more dangerous, and better to be out here rather than in the masters' sight, where could draw bad attention, or than hunting those that used to be masters. Safer was boring though so their ears swivelled eagerly as they heard heavy footsteps approaching down the road.

Pounding and flapping towards them came a Wyvern, hissing its rage and seemingly intent on the Gnolls as they barked to each other. The two Gnolls with bows on the hill above the road began to fit arrows to their bowstrings, but the Halberd armed Gnolls were already charging and into the way. Fighting a Wyvern would be fine entertainment and though the meat was not that good Gnolls were not that fussy. The Gnoll in the watchtower yipped and started to move as it saw the Wyvern would be met outside the range of its bow but there was a snarling from the ground between the inner and outer walls.

Slowly the gates in the outer wall opened and a Gnoll emerged and snarled again at those charging away, this response and its better armour showing this was the leader. It barked more orders that were ignored before it set off in pursuit, to either try to get them to come back or to at least share the kill. The Wyvern's feet skidded slightly in the loose dirt blown across the road as it appeared to see the pack of Gnolls and think better of the idea of trying to eat one now there were several in its sight. It held its ground for a few moments longer, roaring and hissing in warning, but then slowly backed off and turned and began to retreat.

This encouraged the Gnolls and they yipped encouragement to each other as they continued down the road. The two bow-Gnolls were not as swift to pursue as they had still hoped to get a clear arc for their arrows from the high ground, but they started down the slope towards the road as they gave up on this. Suddenly the great form of a bear-god became visible as Okku charged and this dispelled the effects of his second potion of invisibility. With the two Gnolls close together and with the extra momentum of going downhill Okku easily bowled them both other and down onto the dirt road below.

One died almost instantly as the bear-god's weight came down and a huge paw crushed its skull. The other Gnoll had enough wits left after the fall and enough time to twist around and start to sit up. Okku lunged and snapped and his teeth closed on the Gnoll's neck and shoulder. One twist of Okku's own mighty neck tore his spirit-teeth through the flesh in a bright spray of blood that showed he had torn fatally deep. The Gnoll leader turned in surprise at the new enemy behind it and between it and the gates. It barked fresh orders to his subordinates and very reluctantly the pursuing Gnolls slowed and also turned.

The Gnoll on the watchtower had just enough time to get over some of its surprise when it got a second and even more unpleasant one. Although one of the things Gann had recovered from the Witch warden had been a shortbow its existence had slipped Blake's mind with how little use it had got. It had been a relief when Gann reminded him that he had a shortbow and the skill to use it and did not have to be lent one. Now Neeshka and Gann appeared, the effects of two uses of Neeshka's Ring of Invisibility dissipating, and both sent arrows up into the Gnoll before they started to jog towards the open outer gate, notching fresh arrows as they did.

Seeing this the Gnoll leader barked encouragement to the others to hurry to join it so they could slay this bear and trap these new foes. Despite their surprise the Gnolls seemed invigorated by finding themselves with an even better challenge. They barked more encouragement to each other as they spread out to cover the width of the road and prevent the bear's escape. Okku growled happily and almost hoped the little-one would leave him to this battle in peace. But the bear-god knew that Blake would feel obliged to assist and that victory would be achieved a few moments sooner with that assistance.

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The Wyvern had continued to retreat and with the Gnolls moving back towards the Academy Blake judged it had gone far enough to be safe. He reached inside himself to the link between his mind and the Wyvern's that the magic from the scroll had created. There was the temptation to force it to attack the Gnolls and, with the hunger and blood lust the Wyvern felt, this would not take much forcing. But instead Blake released it so he could concentrate. It seemed unsporting to strike from behind as well as invisibly, but Blake didn't really give a damn about that as he sliced his sword backhand across the small of the Gnoll's back in the gap between the backplate and the guard from which its tail protruded.

Even before he'd been exposed to Neeshka and then the military axiom of 'kill them first, kill them any way you can' he had been raised peasant and practical rather than noble and honour-bound. Blake's _Invisibility_ faded with his attack and the Gnoll leader's forward leaning posture straightened as its back arched and then it crumpled. Blake was confident he had severed its spine with either the metal or the magic that had discharged from the blade but to make sure he took two quick steps, turned slightly more, and drove the point of his kite-shaped tower shield down to snap the Gnoll's thick neck.

Okku had already started counter-charging before Blake reappeared and struck. With the speed he had built up he rushed past Blake and towards the Gnolls who were looking as if they were reconsidering the challenge. Fighting the colour-bear with their pack leader had seemed like fun; fighting the colour-bear and armour-man without their pack leader and when more enemies might be hidden seemed less so. Blake finished his turn and started jogging after Okku as he tried to judge distances and whether he could use any magic. He hoped _The Lady of Strategy_ was blessing his plan.

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Neeshka and Gann had reached the outer wall and pressed up against either side of the open gates. They exchanged nods and quickly slipped through and around so they were not silhouetted in the gateway. There was not that much distance between the inner and outer walls so it was a steep angle to be loosing arrows up at the two inner watchtowers. Fortunately the Gnolls on them were better supplied with fighting spirit than with brains and rather than one or both of them having retreated to sound the alarm they were still there and eager to put arrows in the intruders. In the shadows of the wall Neeshka and Gann were rather less distinct targets than the Gnolls were against the sky as they leaned up and out from behind their protective walls in this eagerness. They were still trying to draw their bows and aim when Gann struck one with an arrow and Neeshka struck the other with one and then another before it finished falling.

"Show off," Gann murmured as Neeshka moved forward to examine the inner gates.

She stuck her tongue out at him before leaning her bow against the wall and clambering slightly up the gate so she could reach down through the grillwork above the band of solid planks. Stretching her fingers brushed the bar that was preventing the inner gates from opening and she squirmed and tried twisting her slender arm different ways to try to find a good angle. To her frustration though if she got a good grip them her arm was too awkwardly bent to be able to push hard enough and if her arm was not awkwardly bent then she couldn't get a good grip.

Then Neeshka squeaked slightly as hands closed on her arm and yanked down on it, pulling her so her head jolted the half inch into the metal and with what felt like claws digging into the fine chain links. She turned her head and eyes slightly and saw an amused looking Gnoll snarl-chuckling back at her. It started pulling at her arm, in no hurry to end its game and amused by her efforts to pull free. Neeshka was glad her belt of strength meant she could resist but knew the Gnoll would soon work its way up from painful twisting to inflicting more serious wounds.

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Blake continued down the road in pursuit of Okku and saw that the Gnolls were slowing to prepare to meet the bear-god's charge. They moved together a little with the ones to either side advancing slightly so they could strike from different angles. The Gnolls lowered their halberds and braced themselves to either meet Okku or attack his flanks or rear if he attacked one of their pack-mates. Blake was not completely sure if they were close enough together or if Okku was in the way but he cared less about accidents with how the bear-god had previously grumbled his contempt for his concern about hitting him with a spell.

Slowing, but trying to at least walk and think and chant, Blake reached out to the weave and made his incantation. If any of the others had been watching they would have been utterly unsurprised to see a ball of flame form in front of him before it split and streaked away as separate _Firebrands_. To Blake's relief Tymorra smiled her luck and Mystra allowed her mysteries to unfold as he'd hoped. Each of the Gnolls was struck rather than any being fortunate enough to be outside the effect or have the smaller fireball strike Okku instead. They staggered with a smell of burnt fur and flesh and Okku took advantage of this to lunge and swipe a huge forepaw into one of them while the others were unable to counter-attack.

The Gnoll's armour was good but would have been no match for Okku's razor-sharp spirit claws even if the bear-god had not been so immensely strong or so precise in his blow. One side of its waist shredded under the blow as the paw swept into the gap between the plates of armour. The Gnoll flew backwards off its paws and skidded a short distance along the road, its blood making red mud from the dust and it understandably losing its grip on its halberd. Despite the pain the Gnoll was still snarling in defiance and looking around for its weapon and trying to persuade its legs to work when it realised it had a new problem.

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Hearing Neeshka's squeak Gann had realised almost at once what had happened. He dropped his bow to unsling his spear before jumping up onto the gate, squashing Neeshka a little between him and it, and stabbing his spear through and down. He was confident in where the enemy that had hold of Neeshka's arm must be from the angle she was pulling back against but he still hesitated a half-second to make slightly surer of his aim. Despite how awkward a grip he had needed to use and the haste of the blow Gann managed to drive his spear deep into the Gnoll's head. He was annoyed this lacked his usual precision and went more into one eye rather than between them and even more annoyed that the awkwardness of the grip meant he did not manage to keep hold of his spear. As the Gnoll fell the spearshaft levered itself out of Gann's hands and wedged firmly in the grillwork.

Neeshka pulled her arm back from out of the Gnoll's dead hands and back through the gate. She glanced at Gann who had stumbled back a little on landing and then lithely hopped down herself and flexed her arm to feel how strained it felt and to examine the damage to the sleeve. "Thanks," she said simply but sincerely.

"Any time," Gann replied, looking at his spear and then moving to pick his bow up again.

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In looking for its halberd the Gnoll had noticed something else. Blake had not sent the Wyvern that far away and although it had been confused as to where it was and how it had got there its mind was not one given to great introspection. Not on this and not on why that huge bear looked and smelled so strange. What the Wyvern did understand was the scent of blood and of wounded prey. It darted forward and its tail lashed down into the Gnoll to further incapacitate it with some poison before its jaws came down and closed around the already wounded waist.

Another Gnoll turned and started to move to attack the Wyvern and save or avenge its pack-mate. This was all the distraction Okku needed to strike again, though as the other two Gnolls were still facing him he made this a more hurried blow. One Gnoll managed to stab forward with its halberd and score a shallow wound across the spirit-muscle of one of Okku's shoulders. But this was too late to prevent Okku from smashing his target off the edge of the road. The strong metal of the breast and back plates was torn and crumpled by the impact and it was quite impressive the Gnoll retained enough wits to realise it was going off the edge of the cliff and to try to prevent this.

Its fingers and their claws dug shallow furrows in the ground as it skidded. This slowed it enough that it did not fall but not enough to prevent it from ending up dangling over the edge with its legs weakly scrabbling to try to raise itself back up. Okku glowered at this and then the Gnoll that had wounded him, though the wound was already shimmering closed, and then roared at the Wyvern. He had long since given up the need to eat but the instinct to protest that another predator was scavenging one of _his_ kills was still very strong. The Wyvern hissed back around its mouthful of Gnoll and then, pride satisfied by that act of defiance, it spread its wings and took a few bounding strides to the edge of the road and cliff. For a moment it dropped away out of sight before its flapping and the wind pushing up the mountainside brought it back into view as it flew off to find its nest and feed its mate and babies with the bear-god's gift.

Blake had managed to further close the gap between himself and Okku and although it did look like the Gnoll was slipping Blake decided that there was no point in taking any chances. As unlikely as it seemed that the Gnoll would manage to climb back up onto the road it had also been rather unlikely it would have managed to stop itself at all. Slowing again to a walk while Okku growled and snarled at the two Gnolls to keep them from helping their packmate Blake reached out to the magical weave and chanted a simple spell. Arcane power twisted into the form he'd demanded and a _Melf's Acid Arrow_ streaked out from him and into the Gnoll's face. The pain of its injured back was joined by agony in its eyes and snout as the acid burned away at them. Reflexively the Gnoll grabbed at these fresh wounds and then found itself falling. It bounced and rolled and crunched its way down the mountainside to what Blake hoped for its sake was an immediate death rather than just being crippled for the scavengers.

The Gnolls looked at that, and then at Okku, and then at Blake as he started jogging again. Being reduced from four to two seemed enough for them to decide that as much as they disliked boredom they would prefer to leave this challenge for another time. With a flurry of yips they turned and began fleeing at their top speed. Blake cursed as he realised that although he was slightly faster thanks to his spells that there was no way he could run that fast and have any chance at casting anything at them. Walking was something you didn't need to think about but the same was not true of sprinting down a road covered in loosely packed dirt. This could be a long chase.

"I'll handle these!" Okku growled back over his shoulder. "Return to the others, little-one."

Blake slowed but did not obey for a few moments until, with a nod, he turned around and began jogging back the way he'd come. As much speed as Blake's magic gave him the spell also affected the others and Okku was closer to the Gnolls, faster than them or Blake, and as a god-of-bears had nearly endless stamina. Okku could not run that much faster than a bear of flesh and bone but he could sustain that speed rather than it only being for short bursts. A distant yelp floated up the road and showed that one more Gnoll had met its fate and that Okku no longer had to worry about them splitting up as there was only one left.

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A few moments of consideration had made Neeshka wonder why she had even bothered to try to slide the gate-bar from this side. Not only were there banners hanging down the outside of the wall there were ridges across and these to her were as good as a set of stairs. She hopped up and onto the one between the base of the wall and the first section and steadying herself with a light hold on the banner with one hand reached up with the other. Her fingertips got a good grip on the inch deep and inch wide ridge between the first and second sections and she released the banner and reached for that with the other hand as well…

Very soon Neeshka was peering carefully over the top of the wall for any more surprises. The only Gnolls in sight were dead and the doors into the Academy were still shut so it did not look like any had gone to raise the alarm. It seemed safe enough so with a quick pendulum of her hips and tail and legs she swung herself up to lie flat on top of the wall. A moment, and a look down at the ground beneath, later she shifted her grip and let herself swing down over the other side to hang there briefly and then drop. She landed almost noiselessly as her lithe legs took the impact and as she sank down into a crouch rather than remain rigid.

Flowing up out of this crouch like a cat after a leap she strolled over to the gate and where the Gnoll was hanging from Gann's spear. With a grimace fuelled more by the unwashed smell and by the evidence of a minor flea infestation rather than by it being a corpse she took hold of it and lifted. Gann's face appeared as he saw his spear move and he grabbed hold of the shaft as it came within reach. Together they pulled and managed to get the right angle for the spearhead to come free. With another grimace Neeshka dragged the Gnoll corpse aside and then returned to the gate bar that had stymied her from the other side. From this side it was simple to slide and she had just done so when Blake arrived.

"Okku is hunting down the last of them," Blake said, smiling to Neeshka through the gate and then bracing himself to push it open.

"You missed quite the impressive display of acrobatic talent," commented Gann as he removed the carrying strap from his spear. "Should destroying ancient curses and threats pale your lady could make a fine living in the circus."

For a moment Neeshka's expression soured as the gate creaked open under Blake's efforts. She remembered the last time someone had suggested the circus and that they had meant the freak show rather than the acrobats. But she knew what Gann had meant and that he was paying a compliment so that expression cleared and she grinned at him. "He gets the _private_ show," Neeshka said in her best sultry voice.


	17. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Okku soon returned from hunting down the last of the Gnoll guards and together they moved along the short path to the Academy building. Neeshka gestured to them to stop and then crept ahead and up to the doors. She pressed one ear against these and intently listened before gesturing the others to join her. Okku rumbled softly at the continuing needless delays as he felt the antics of the mortals in being cautious were becoming annoying rather than merely irritating.

"Sounds quiet," Neeshka said softly. "But quiet in a normal way rather than as if people were lying in wait."

Blake nodded and carefully pushed the door open. Inside was a scene of quiet and peace and order only spoiled by the corpses littering the hallways. Blake knew there had been a coup and knew Red Wizards were inclined to plotting against and killing each other on a day to day basis but those were still a surprise. Even if they had no respect for the defeated or for Jergal and proper burial this was still unsanitary. In some ways it was a welcome surprise though as it eased Blake's guilt over having left the corpses in the Shadow Veil. At least there they were not rotting and were not in the place where people were living and working and studying.

"Are those fresh?" Blake murmured to Okku. "Or have they left the results of their coup to rot for days?"

Okku glanced at Blake with an expression that showed he had trouble believing the little-one's nose was so insensitive. Before the bear-god could take another sniff of the air to make sure and reply an old Red Wizard popped his head out of the nearest classroom. Strangely rather than ducking back or shouting for help he emerged into the hallway and faced them. "Good. I've found you first. I'm Djafi, one of the masters here. Nefris asked th…"

His words cut off as Neeshka stabbed him in the back and his attention was drawn to the tip of her blade protruding out through the centre of his chest. She twisted the blade slightly and shoved him forward with her other hand as she pulled back so he fell forward and off her rapier. The red of his robes became a deeper one as the blood soaked them and he died at Neeshka's feet.

"Maybe we should have let him finish his sentence?" Gann commented.

"Why?" asked Neeshka calmly, stepping around the corpse and back to Blake's side.

"Hmm. Why indeed," Blake smiled. "He seemed loyal to Nefris which if anything makes him worse than Araman's faction. If he knew enough about her plot to be any use to us then he would have to have been deeply involved enough to deserve death."

"I was not saying we should spare him," Gann replied, "just wondering what Nefris had asked. Still to sort through whatever half-truths he would share would have taken a great deal of time."

"Hrm, and at least we have _finally_ made a start on killing them," Okku growled softly.

Gann looked around. "The Red Wizards seem to have little hesitation in continuing their teaching even as corpses fill their academy."

"And I have little hesitation in continuing to fill their academy with corpses," Blake replied, "even as they continue their teaching."

Although he doubted anyone would notice, and doubted even more that anyone would care if they did, Blake stooped and grabbed one of the old Red Wizard's ankles and dragged the body around the corner of the doorway back into that classroom. That done he led the way towards the right-hand corridor, paused, and tilted his helmeted head as he listened. "I think I hear a thumping coming from that way," Blake commented quietly, pointing up the corridor.

"Not exactly hard to hear that, harbour-boy," smiled Neeshka.

Blake nodded. It was a strange noise and seemed almost a combination of blacksmithing and mattress beating. "Let's investigate."

"It matters little to me, little-one, which Red Wizards we slay first," Okku rumbled.

They started up the corridor but suddenly Neeshka stopped and crept across to the door to their right. She brought her ear close to it and then crept back to the others where they were waiting. "Talking about souls in there," she murmured. "Sounds like a lesson in progress."

"I expect we will hear a lot about that," muttered Gann back, "unless the headmistress… former late headmistress… was working on something the rest of her Academy was not involved with."

"Even so," Blake replied quietly, "let us interrupt this lesson."

Neeshka nodded and crept back to the door. Knowing that fast movement caught the eye she opened it with no more speed than if it had blown open. As she did the sound of the Red Wizard teacher lecturing his students became clearer, and that he was continuing unabated showed he was either a fine actor or that Neeshka's caution had been successful. She slipped forward, her body language so neutral as to let people's attention slide past her despite her attractive figure, and casually drew her sword as if that was no more unusual a thing to do in a classroom than looking at a scroll or picking up a pen.

"Now what is the first thing you want to do when extracting a soul?" asked the teacher, looking around the room for students who wanted his attention or were hoping to avoid it. Seeing one of the former he pointed. "Yes Odjit?"

"Gag the subject?" Odjit replied hesitantly.

"Glurk," said another student.

"Pardon?" the teacher demanded, annoyed at the strange interruption. He was about to find out if any of these idiots knew better than Odjit and knew you had to restrain the subject first and _then_ gag them. "What do…"

The teacher stopped as he saw the 'glurk' had been an involuntary comment caused by a Tiefling having just slit the throat of the student nearest the door. Before he could recover from that surprise the doorway was filled with a huge colourful bear-spirit that then charged across the classroom straight at him. Students and desks went flying as Okku charged and Blake winced slightly at the noise as he followed. One student was already trying to get up again so Blake brought his sword down and across to decapitate him. Meanwhile Okku had reached the teacher before the man could mutter more than a few words of whatever spell or final prayer had come to his lips. Both forepaws came up as the bear-god drove them into the man's chest with all the force of his charge.

Whether the cracking noise came more from the Red Wizard's ribs or from the blackboard he was crushed against was unclear as both were shattered as Okku smashed him through it and against the wall. The results though were gruesomely apparent as the man suddenly resembled what happened if a cat left a dead mouse where its human could step on it. As Okku whirled around away from the corpse Neeshka danced across the room to kill her second student with a less messy but no less fatal stab through the heart and Gann flicked his spear out and into the side of the head of the fourth and final student. They looked at each other for a moment before Blake shrugged with a slight clank.

"And _you_ were worried little-one," chuckled Okku, satisfied with the speed of their victory.

"I still am, my friend," Blake replied, to the bear-god's surprise, "that went well but even in this place they might eventually notice the sound of fighting."

"Bah," said Okku impatiently, "let them notice, they shall fall all the same."

Blake nodded and frowned at the flattened corpse of the teacher that Neeshka was searching. "I have been trying to be more sensitive to that 'Dreamer's Eye'," he asked, turning to Gann, "but… did that man look evil compared with that first one? Or am I misinterpreting?"

"No misinterpretation," Gann smiled, "part of the reason I wondered if we should let him finish speaking was that, though his spirit was not unstained by his deeds here, the predominant feeling was one of sadness. This fellow though I have no qualms over the swift and gruesome nature of his demise."

Neeshka rolled her eyes at Blake as she returned from searching the flattened corpse of the teacher. At least Okku's noisiness meant Blake now knew how she felt when her efforts at being silent were spoiled by his clanking. "The teacher had some keys," she reported, jingling the ring of them, "could be useful."

"Perhaps," Blake smiled, "but locks don't have a tendency to resist you. Something they and I have in common."

"And both they and you have been picked by her," added Gann. "Though I think your pleasure in that is the greater."

Blake nodded to this as they left the classroom to return to the corridor. Glancing up it he frowned slightly. "That doorway doesn't have a door."

"Then we had best investigate this 'way'," replied Gann striding across and through it. Blake hurried to join him and found him standing amongst desks and bookshelves with a slightly stunned expression. "This place feels strange… the haze in this room, it's thick with spirits."

Blake could feel the curse writhe within him as it also felt this and tried to grab at the haze like a thirsty man trying to catch raindrops. He took a moment to beat it back down with the flail of his will and then looked at the Golem standing near the centre of the room. This looked like those he had seen aiding the Red Woman in the dreamscape of the Betrayer's Gate. The Golem stared back at Blake, the magics of its mind not complex enough to let it realise that bear-gods and people with bloodstained weapons were something unusual to react to.

"What is this place?"

"You are in the Soul Depository within the Academy of Shapers and Binders on Thaymount in Thay," replied the Golem in excessive detail before continuing more usefully. "Its purpose is the storage, cataloguing, and loaning of souls donated by academy personnel and alumni."

"I…see," said Blake, his lips tightening as the Golem revealed how much this Academy and Nefris' studies were the same. He'd had a vague hope that the shaping was more the sculpting of Golems and the binding was more aimed at Elementals and other non-sapient things. "Are there any rules here I should know about?"

"Visitors are permitted to withdraw a single soul per party. Those who attempt to leave the premises with more souls than is permitted shall face the depository's defence mechanisms. Any who stand in the depository and do not observe silence are subject to punishment by its defence mechanisms."

"Hrm," Blake grunted, "farewell."

With that Blake spent a few moments moving around the room examining the runes scribed on the stones and trying to judge their potency. The Golem ignored this just as it had ignored everything but the direct questions before. Despite what it said about observing silence it even ignored Blake's hiss as he found a pot with a lever and realised this was for viewing the souls contained in the spherical housings.

"The defences seem powerful," Blake muttered quietly to the others. "As tempting as it is I don't think we can simply empty this place of the imprisoned souls."

"What then?" frowned Gann. "Do you suggest that we just leave them to be exploited here?"

"No. I suggest we finish killing everyone in this Academy," Blake growled, "and then put all the soul housings around some of the explosives we'll go back to Mulsantir to acquire. Shatter the soul housings to free the souls in the same explosions as we use to _flatten_ this place."

"Ah," nodded Gann. "A most thorough plan."

"May the Red Knight bless it," Blake replied. "For now though let us find out what the thumping is. All ready to kill more Red Wizards?"

"Always," Okku rumbled, loud enough to draw a look from the Golem though it did nothing more than twitch as it tried, and failed, to decide whether this spirit-bear was a visitor to be punished or a noise to be ignored.

Blake led the way out of the Depository to a door a short way up the corridor on the opposite side. Now they were closer he thought he could hear cheering and conversation as well as the incessant noise of impacts. He gave Neeshka a slightly puzzled look and she smiled at him before taking the lead and calmly opening the door. She slipped through and into the room and they could see the thumping was a pair of Golems inside some sections of cage smashing each other. Around this arena were Red Wizards enjoying their sport and cheering on their chosen fighter.

Neeshka casually put her hands behind her to hide her sword and shield and have the added bonus of thrusting her chest out a little. Blake stayed a little to the rear of her and kept his sword-hand and the sword still in it also hidden by her body. One of the Red Wizards noticed they'd been joined by more people and turned around to happily leer at Neeshka as she smiled at him and kept his attention. She'd not had much use for most of Ophala's lessons as she'd decided to remain a thief rather than take a job at the Moonstone Mask, but she remembered enough and it could be useful being able to keep a man off guard with a few subtle poses.

"Come to enjoy the festivities?" the young Red Wizard said, eyes going up and down Neeshka and noticing her shapely form rather than the armour fitted to it.

Blake took a step to his left and swept his sword up and past Neeshka to stab it into the Red Wizard's gut. "No."

Dispassionately the strategy of her using her Sune-given beauty as a distraction appealed to his belief in the Red Knight. However a lack of passion was not what he felt when he was around Neeshka so there was extra spice in punishing the leer. As the others noticed the different sounding thump of metal into meat and the noise of breath being forced from a body they also turned. Neeshka jumped to her right with her Rapier slicing up and out and across the Red Wizard there. This was only a shallow wound to keep that opponent off balance, rather than the more fatal wound Blake had begun his assault with, so her enemy staggered back a little. Blake gave his sword a quick twist in the first Red Wizard's guts and then heaved it upwards and tilted it to dump the rapidly dying young man onto the floor.

"Quick, stop the Golems fighting each other," one of the students cried, "set them on the intruders."

Gann had entered the room but without the advantage of surprise that Blake and Neeshka had he'd not found any foes within spear reach. His arrival did hasten the retreat of one though and Gann continued to move left in pursuit. Another Red Wizard though had recited some command words and the two Golems within the cage stopped fighting and turned to advance towards Blake. He considered magic and then he considered that he was between them and the door and simply took a step to the right. The Clay Golem's dull gaze followed him as it started to pass through the, to it, narrow gap out between the cage sections.

Then there was a happy roaring as Okku charged, splintering the door as he brushed it in passing, and slammed into the Clay Golem. It staggered and fell backwards and forced its former opponent in the cage back as Okku bowled it over. For a moment the bear-god considered biting at its face and throat but Okku was familiar with 'mud that moved' from how the energy of the spirits had shaped his burrow. And this was not even good Rashemen mud so he even less wanted some in his mouth. Instead he simply began treating it like any other mound of clay that he wanted to make a hole in and started digging like a badger towards where, from the Keeper of Doors, he expected to find this Golem's spirit core.

A quick spear thrust from Gann did little but cut some cloth and make a Red Wizard squeak and flee faster. Neeshka was more fortunate in her follow up strike and managed to flick the tip of her sword across that Red Wizard's throat. Her foe collapsed, blood leaking fast from between the fingers of the hands she had grabbed at her neck with, and slumped to the floor to bleed out into a puddle. Ignoring the Red Wizard's last few coughs as blood seeped through the cut between jugular and windpipe Neeshka looked to find the next threat to be removed.

With a hiss of metal sliding over metal the Blade Golem that had been fighting the Clay Golem thrust its forearm forward and at the busily digging Okku. The huge blade that formed this forearm stabbed deep into the bear-god with the strength of the Golem and the magic used in its construction. Okku roared in more anger than pain even with how his twisting in reaction slightly worsened the wound. The way this also moved the Golem a little showed that its blade was trapped for the moment and as this was part of it the Golem was unable to simply let go of its weapon.

Blake remembered all the work Grobnar had put into repairing and improving 'Construct' and though Blake had been rather busy with the repairing and improving of Crossroad Keep itself he had paid some attention. Golems of this design were formidable opponents but there were a few weak points Grobnar had mentioned as he cheerfully babbled on about his attempts to rectify these in various unlikely ways. Entering through the opening in the side of the cage sections Blake stabbed his sword up and through the gap in the Blade Golem's armour at its waist. There was not that much inside the armour to be wounded by this but there was enough.

As Blake moved a Red Wizard made a slight mistake. He'd already been in the process of trying to aim a spell and he automatically turned and took a couple of steps to try to keep his line of sight. The bars of the cage sections were quite widely spaced but they could still get in the way of the magic. Unfortunately for him this brought him closer to Neeshka and concentrating on Blake distracted him conveniently for her. She pounced and her rapier sliced cleanly across the back of one hand as it gestured. The spell fizzled with the pain and as the tendons parted and the fingers were no longer working to make the right shapes.

Neeshka slid in closer as the Red Wizard began to turn in shock and grabbing her sword hand with the other drove her elbow back towards the man's face. With her fine chainmail that blow would have been bad enough but Neeshka's elbow neatly passed to one side so it was the rear corner of her bracer-blade that made contact. The blade cleaved through teeth and tongue and cheeks and the Red Wizard choked as the ruin of his mouth filled with blood. He crumpled and Neeshka blooded the spikes on her shield as she used them for the first time and punched the broad central prong of the forward set of three into the back of the Red Wizard's skull.

The Blade Golem's blade was still trapped in Okku as Blake pulled his sword back out of it and stepped back a little. It tried to turn and swat at Blake with its other arm and a fist that could still crush bone but despite the restricted quarters inside the cage sections Blake managed to dodge. In turning with its blade still trapped the Golem had needed to extend that arm to one side and Blake counterattacked and brought his sword down on its elbow. His skill and that of the smiths who had forged and then improved his sword proved equal to the task of overcoming the skill of those that had built the Golem. With an unpleasant squeal of metal Blake's sword sheared through the joint, though that unfortunately both freed the Blade Golem and left the blade embedded in Okku.

Gann meanwhile had a problem. He had managed to strike home and a Red Wizard had rapidly died from a heart ruptured and sliced by the metal of Gann's spearhead. The other though had managed to flee through the door at the back of the room and now there were two man-sized Golems entering through that same door. Of more immediate concern though was the very large and spear-proof looking Iron Golem filling the gap between the cage section and the wall of the room. Gann had the feeling that as well as his spear being useless none of the gifts the spirits lent him would do anything to that Golem either, and with the fighting within the cage blocking that direction that only left retreat.

Glancing to his right before returning his attention to the Blade Golem's determined efforts to punch him Blake muttered. "That looks like the same sort as the Caretaker, and that looks like the ones from the ruins under the barrow…"

"Less talking," Neeshka chided him, "more hitting."

Blake nodded. "Help Okku."

There was a clang as Blake swept his sword around and back into the gap at the Blade Golem's waist. The narrow tongues of metal coming down at front and rear from the torso to the hip-section resisted rather than be cut. But Blake's sword was heavy and the blow precise so they still bent a little and the impact seemed to jar the joints out of alignment. Sometimes people were quite proud that some armour could not be cut and didn't realise that even if the edge didn't slice in that still left the sword blow as the equivalent of being hit with a metal bar. Striking with the flat of the blade also prevented the sword from cutting but did not prevent it from being able to break arms. As the Blade Golem moved to strike back at the retreating Blake there was a noise of screeching metal and it seemed a little slowed.

Okku had exposed the Clay Golem's spirit core with his efforts but this had turned dark as its energy was expended in the failed attempt to keep the Golem moving and intact. Stabbing her sword down into the pile of dirt that was all that was left of this Neeshka used both strong slender hands to grab the severed Blade Golem forearm where it stuck out of Okku. Behind her more clanging showed Blake was continuing to batter its owner back and bracing herself Neeshka pulled and then pulled harder as the blade proved stubbornly embedded in Okku. Her boots slipped slightly on the remains of the Clay Golem as Okku had done a good job of turning it into loose fragments, but she easily kept her balance and the blade slipped free. Okku slumped rather as his form shimmered and his spirit-form began healing the long deep hole in it.

Gann was still retreating and seeing that Okku could benefit more from some aid from other spirits he hopped quickly back a few steps to beseech them. Healing energy flowed out from the Hagspawn and into the bear-god whose form visibly brightened and regained some colour. The Iron Golem made a noise but seemed unable to speed its plodding but inexorable progress to take advantage of Gann's distraction. Neeshka nodded to Gann, then looked at the forearm she was still holding and a wicked smile spread across her pretty face.

"Jump right!" Neeshka said, turning towards her harbour-boy.

Trusting his sweetheart implicitly Blake moved, which was fortunate as trusting that he trusted her Neeshka was already charging. She could not get up much speed but the well-muscled thighs and rear, whose curves Blake so adored, let her put a considerable amount of power into driving the Blade Golem's own blade forward like a spear and through its torso. The Blade Golem staggered and as it tilted back and began to fall Neeshka let go of the forearm and calmly slid back towards where her sword was. As the Blade Golem fell onto its back there was another grating of metal as this impact drove the blade jutting from it a few inches back out of its torso and the tip of it almost as far into the floor of the room. Either Neeshka's blow or this extra injury was enough to finish the Golem.

This was good but of more misfortune was where Blake's jump had taken him. The Thayan Golem had been entering the cage sections from to the right of him and moving as he did had brought him rather close to that foe. It grabbed at Blake's sword-arm and managed to get a good grip and to show it was stronger than it looked. Blake was still a little off-balance from the sudden jump and wresting with the Golem to free his arm or turn to strike at it with the edge of his shield was keeping him that way. He scowled at the Golem as it returned this with its perpetually impassive expression despite how the magic energy of Blake's _Death Armour_ began burning at it.

Having squeezed its way down past the cage sections the Iron Golem began to turn the corner but then was smashed back against the wall as Okku decided he was recovered enough to butt his head into this large opponent's midsection. There was a clang like an armour-smith dropping an entire cartload and despite his preoccupation with his own fight Blake winced. That was very noisy so he just hoped that the Red Wizards elsewhere in the Academy would still assume that was yet more of the Golem fighting rather than something unusual.

The Imaskari Golem hesitated in confusion. It had been entering the cage sections by the gap nearest the door at the back of the room and had been intending to attack Blake. But other-target was now closer with how the two of them had moved and was perhaps the greater threat from its actions and since first-target was now being fought by ally-Golem. Other-target did not have sword in hand so was perhaps vulnerable so the Imaskari Golem moved to attack it before it could return to full-threat ability. The hesitation and the moment it took to make the decision was too long though.

Neeshka pulled her Rapier out of the remains of the Clay Golem and gave it a quick flick to shake off a small clod of clay that had stuck to the blood on it. Then she dabbed out with a speed far beyond that which the Imaskari Golem could hope to counter. It was not a slow Golem but Neeshka was naturally very swift and deft and still had the benefit of her harbour-boy's magic to further improve her skills. Quick fast stabs flickered into the gaps between the Golem's torso and arms and between its upper and lower arm and with each strike the magic of her sword discharged and disrupted the magic that formed the shoulder and elbow joints.

It tried to fight back but moment by moment its arms were moving less well and the less well they moved the easier Neeshka found it to strike at the joints. The slight glow at the ends of the physical components and between them began to dim as the magic dissipated under the assault. The Imaskari Golem swung a punch that would have been desperate had it the emotions to feel despair and the force of its own blow proved too much as one forearm parted company with the rest of it. Neeshka twisted slightly to avoid the projectile that forearm had become and stabbed out and into the other arm's shoulder again. To her satisfaction it only took a few more strikes into that before that entire arm fell off.

Even with his _Death Armour_ wearing at the Thayan Golem's hands Blake found himself unable to turn enough in its grip to hit it with his shield and with how it was pulling at him he could not afford to lift a foot to kick out at it. However he was able to turn enough that the edge of the cage section was within reach so he could firmly brace his shield and shield-arm hand against that. With a heave and a twinge from his sword-arm he managed to pull the Golem off balance and face first into the cage section. The Thayan Golem lost its grip as it bounced back off that pillar and staggered to a stop. Blake shimmied his sword-arm a little to shake some feeling back into it and then moved to the attack.

A sound like creaking hinges came from deep within the Iron Golem as it brought one huge fist down with ponderous power into Okku's shoulder. The discoloration of the impact spread through the bear-god's spirit form down his leg and back and up his neck but Okku's only response was to chuckle and return the blow. Spirit-sharp claws tore great rents in the thick metal of the Iron Golem and unlike how Okku's spirit-form was already regaining its normal colour these rents did not begin to heal. The Golem stumbled a little and Okku reared up as he was happy to have finally found an opponent large enough to wrestle. Metal creaked as Okku got a good firm bear hug in place and began to squeeze and crush.

Gann was not sure how he could help as there was no room to stab past Okku even if he thought his spear could make any difference. Blake seemed to have the advantage in his fight as he steadily hacked the Thayan Golem apart, being careful to shear off small lumps and slivers rather than risk his sword becoming embedded. The Thayan Golem had tried to grab at Blake again but now Blake had a little more room he was using the extra reach his sword gave him to drive the Golem back against the wall of the room. Gann nodded to himself and decided he might be of more use where Neeshka had begun sweeping her sword through the Imaskari Golem's waist.

As at shoulder and elbow there was no physical joint there and with each sweep and each discharge of magic from her Rapier the magical force keeping the Imaskari Golem's torso and hips together diminished. It moved incautiously as Neeshka swept her sword in again and its torso and hips twisted out of alignment before the magic reformed. Then Gann's spear stabbed out and into its waist. Neeshka pouted slightly as she had to pull back from her attack with Gann now being in the way but they soon got each other's rhythm to keep up a constant assault.

With a slightly pathetic noise of protest the upper part of the Imaskari Golem fell off the lower part as its waist finally gave way. For a moment the legs stood there but then deprived of the source of power in the torso the magic of the leg joints vanished and they came apart and fell in a heap. The torso and head wobbled about a little on the floor as the Imaskari Golem looked about and moved the upper arm that was its only remaining limb. But it could do no more than wobble.

"Finish it," Neeshka said, bounding past it and towards the back room.

Gann frowned at the command. He'd barely accepted that Blake had this habit without Neeshka also starting. But he shrugged and crouched to shove his spear up into what had been the lower end of the Imaskari Golem's torso. The wobbling increased in intensity as the Golem reacted to this impaling and as Gann kept on withdrawing and stabbing like a man trying to clear a blocked horizontal pipe with a stick. He was quite relived there were no unpleasant fluids or screaming like if he had been doing this to a creature of flesh. At the same time however this lack did make it difficult to judge how much damage he was doing until quite suddenly the head and upper arm fell off the torso as well.

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Creeping cautiously through the doorway into the back room Neeshka looked suspiciously around. Wizards could be tricky with their ability to become invisible and to throw harmful magic around. And though she was glad she had a harbour-boy who was not as reliant on magic to be dangerous that didn't mean she had lost sight of how a moment or two to prepare could greatly aid most Wizards. This Red Wizard had had more than long enough, but Neeshka chuckled softly to herself as she heard a noise and realised the girl had used that time to hide under a table rather than get ready to fight.

Neeshka paused. There was the risk that dragging this Red Wizard out would result in surrender and pleas for mercy and, despite what Blake had said about no mercy and no survivors, he would still probably feel bad about killing someone who had surrendered. He was also 'traditional' enough that the person being female would make that worse. And there was the risk that the apparent cowering was a trick and a trap.

So Neeshka decided to save her harbour-boy the decision and the risks and instead smoothly threw a Blastglobe underarm to fill the whole area under the table with flame. The Red Wizard screamed as her robes and flesh caught alight and the flames ate through his eyelids to blind her. Fortunately for her those screams also drew the flames in with her breath to scorch her lungs and give her a swifter death.

=x=x=x=  
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The sound of female screams drew Blake to rush in through the doorway despite the Thayan Golem still having some ability to move. His face moved from concern to relief as he saw Neeshka was uninjured and then to shock as he saw the furnace like appearance of beneath the table. "What happened?"

"She saw me," Neeshka smoothly lied, "but I think she misjudged her fireball and how much room she needed for it to get out from under there."

Blake slowly nodded. "Ouch," he breathed before turning to look back out into the other room at the squeal of metal. "Though I am glad _she_ drew Beshaba's attention rather than you."

Neeshka allowed herself a small sigh of relief that her harbour-boy had accepted the explanation and had been distracted by whatever that noise was. Following Blake she was just in time to see Okku give one last wrench and with another squeal finish tearing the arm off the Iron Golem. It staggered and Okku swept a paw into its legs and it fell. As Gann had noted the gap between the cage sections and the wall was quite narrow for a Golem of this size and in falling and twisting it managed to wedge itself securely and trap its remaining arm.

Okku pounced. The impact wedged the Iron Golem even firmer and the weight of the bear-god held it down and hampered its efforts to free itself. Then Okku started to use the fact he was not quite as broad as the Golem and so had more room to move in these restricted quarters. One great paw came down onto the Golem's chest, claws tearing at the armour metal there and the blow buckling it in slightly. Then Okku twisted back to bring the other paw in and down on almost the same spot. More metal tore and buckled and Okku continued to alternate blows and to crush and cut the Golem's torso in.

It was fortunate for the bear-god that he was no longer a bear of flesh as his battle lust drove him on and drove his paws again and again into the Iron Golem. The ragged edges of the wound he was creating were tearing at him almost as much as he was tearing at his foe and his forelegs were shimmering and reforming almost constantly. The deep door-hinge creak noises from the Iron Golem became more and more frantic sounding as Okku relentlessly continued until finally the spark of animation left it.

Whether it took Okku several more blows to realise the Iron Golem was destroyed or whether he had realised but was making sure of the kill was unclear. "A fine diversion, little-one," Okku rumbled as he withdrew.

Blake nodded as he looked at how much of Okku's forelegs were still reforming rather than being uninjured. At least though they were reforming rather than being bloody and with Okku having stripped his flesh to the bone in his battle fury. "Hopefully not a costly one, that was noisy."

Okku grumbled as Blake turned his attention to the Thayan Golem and hitting it a few more times to stop the last of its twitching. Blake could understand why Okku had been so enjoyed the fight but finding these Golems made him wonder what other surprises might be lurking in this place. Hopefully Tymorra would continue to bless them with good fortune and victory but he was still concerned.

There were no other doors in the corridor before it reached a cross-corridor. Neeshka crept ahead and peered both ways down this before waving them forward. To their right on the far side of this corridor were a couple of doors and it seemed better to Blake to deal with them before the other side of the Academy. He moved carefully to the nearest door and listened before nodding at the sound of normal conversation. It was awkward opening the door with his sword still in his hand but Blake preferred that inconvenience to the alternative of sheathing it.

Four Red Wizard students had been chatting away but they turned as whatever clank from Blake's armour drew their attention. One smiled in a rather over-confident and more than rather psychotic manner as he saw them and what he thought was an opportunity for some fun. Even the sight of Gann and Neeshka moving to flank Blake and of Okku looming in the doorway behind them did not diminish this smile though his friends began to look a little uncertain.

"The headmistress is dead," tittered the Student, "the band on killing visitors is lifted."

The other students exchanged glances but before they could decide whether to follow their friend's lead or try to restrain him it was already too late. With a lack of tensing and preparing and visibly aiming that made the motion look almost casual Gann's spear stabbed out and sank deep into the Red Wizard's gut. The young man crumpled around the blow and started to fall as Gann just as smoothly withdrew his weapon and spoke.

"Actually we're invaders."

It took only another moment for the other Red Wizards to get over their shock as this was not the first corpse or the first friend they had seen killed but that was again already too late. Blake swept his sword up and across and putting his back and waist into the blow managed to messily decapitate another of them. He'd not been as precise as Gann and caught a little of the chin rather than his blade cleanly cleaving through the neck but his strength was sufficient. Neeshka allowed herself a 'tsk' of disapproval at the lack of neatness before her Rapier flicked out and inflicted a few painful wounds to a third Red Wizard's face to draw her hands to it and leave her chest open for the follow up blow that slid between her breasts and into her heart.

Gann stabbed out again and into the fourth and final Red Wizard's shocked and open mouth. He was glad to find that metaphor was not as inclined to trap his spear as bone was; this blow had not worked so well for him against Wyverns and other thick skulled foes but these students were merely thick headed. As Gann withdrew Blake pulled his foot back and then drove one Mithril toe-capped boot into the side of the first Red Wizard's head. There was a crunch as the metal met the thin bone of the temple and the youth's soft sounds of dying pain ended with that noise.

Okku grumbled from the hallway where he had been unable to do more than watch. There seemed equal parts annoyance at being a spectator and irritation that when the little-one and his mate and the annoying Hagspawn could kill these foes with such speed that the little-one was still concerned about 'tactics'. Blake's intent to be thorough was commendable but it ill suited Okku to not simply roar his rage and his challenge and try to draw the Red Wizards to where they could be all be slain at once. With some more rumbling Okku turned and padded down the hallway to the next door along.

Hurriedly the others followed Okku as he nosed the door open and, entering the room, cast his baleful yellow gaze around it and across the four students and the teacher lecturing at the front of the classroom. To Blake's surprise the arrival of a bear-god did not seem to draw much notice. The students seemed too concerned with the consequences of not keeping their focus on the teacher and the teacher to be regarding their arrival as unworthy of note.

"The arcane triad is your greatest ally when working with souls…" said the Red Wizard teacher, continuing with the lesson.

"And my teeth and claws," Okku growled, "are _my_ greatest allies in stopping you doing this."

"_You_ are disrupting class…" sneered the Red Wizard teacher, his arrogance preventing him realising what serious peril he was in.

"And we shall disrupt it further," Okku replied, rumbling deep in his massive chest, "foolish Red Wizard…"

With that Okku sprang forward, shouldering desks and a couple of unfortunate Red Wizard students aside as he charged. Wood cracked as the desks struck each other and as joins popped free. The Red Wizard teacher had just enough time to fling an arm up defensively and so Okku's teeth closed on that rather than his face. In some ways it would have been better for the Red Wizard if Okku had been less controlled as the bear-god could easily have bitten that forearm off with one snap of his jaws. Instead though Okku restrained himself so his teeth 'only' sank deep and he 'only' crushed the bones severely and he left the arm attached.

Okku swung his head to the side and up and the Red Wizard screamed as his mangled arm twisted in Okku's mouth in the instant before Okku released him. He thudded into the wall with a crunch of ribs and slid down it to the floor. The Red Wizard's students were still reacting and the two on the floor were still slightly dazed from having been flung there and by the desks that had landed on and around them. One of those that had kept her seat was beginning to stand but before she could do more than plant her hand on the desk in front of her and start to take her weight on that and her legs rather than her rear Blake had moved.

The Red Wizard student thumped back down onto her seat and then back off it as Blake swung his sword backhand and the edge caught her across the eyes. Thin bone around the eyesockets shattered as the blade sliced through that and the eyes and the bridge of her nose and cut back into the skull almost as far as the ears. Blake pulled his sword back and let this and the Red Wizard student's fall free his sword again.

While Blake was killing that one Gann had not been inactive. He'd taken a few short steps through the scatter of desks to where a Red Wizard student was trying to push the desk that had landed on him aside. Gann swept the butt end of his spear forward like a man back-paddling and the iron bands sheathing that end crushed in the student's skull before he could do more than wonder if he had noticed something.

The death of his classmates had not taken long but it had occupied Blake and Gann long enough the other Red Wizard student that had not been sent to the floor managed to get up and scramble between the rows of desks towards the wall. There he watched as Blake stabbed his sword down and at the other fallen student. Desperate hands were raised to try to fend this off but they barely seemed to slow the razor tip as it sliced through them, scattering a few fingers, and plunged into the student's heart. Blake twisted his sword and began to withdraw it and the surviving student thought he saw a chance. The bear was dealing with Master Atabe, the Hagspawn was too far away, and the armoured man had his sword in a chest so perhaps now he could flee.

Rushing down the gap between the desks and the walls the Red Wizard student was surprised when the pretty Tiefling stood aside to let him pass. Then for an instant he was surprised he was surprised as why shouldn't someone as slender and as Demon blooded as that get out of his way? That surprise and his fear carried him on a step or two before the pain registered and he felt a blood damp fire across his belly. He vaguely realised as he collapsed onto his knees and one hand that she had let his own rush draw his body across her sword. Trying to ignore the agony and the squishy dampness of his intestines against the fingers of his other hand as he tried to hold them in the Red Wizard student fought to not pass out or discover if you could vomit while disembowelled. The door was so close so if he could just get a little further then perhaps someone would see him and perhaps they would find him a healer rather than simply laugh at his predicament.

It was an impressive act of willpower to not collapse but ultimately useless as Neeshka nearly soundlessly slipped in and, bending gracefully at waist and knee, drove her bracer blade into the back of his skull where it met his neck. The Red Wizard student fell flat onto the floor and into the puddle of his own fluids as he died and made a far neater corpse than the one Okku had made of his teacher. Where Neeshka had made one clean cut and then hidden the result under the student's body Okku had been rather more messy as his claws had torn the Red Wizard's guts out and strewn them to one side.

The smell in the classroom with the ruptured intestines and the bowels released in death was most unpleasant so, even if the air in the corridors was only barely less pungent, Blake carefully shut the door tight as they left. Thankfully the initial stench there had dissipated a little and had not been replaced by too much decay. Blake wandered down the corridor, cautiously looking around the corner into the left-hand corridor that led towards the entrance and down the stairs they passed. There were more stairs at the end of the passage but these led upwards and as Blake peered up them he looked impressed as he realised this must be the tower and was reminded of how far Neeshka had climbed on the outside.

"Probably best to finish sweeping this floor first," Blake commented quietly, "and the tower is high so I think downstairs next rather than up." He frowned. "Though I am not sure we can finish this floor. It looked a lot larger from the outside."

"What of that door?" asked Gann, also quiet.

"Some conversation," Neeshka replied, moving from where she had taken the chance to listen at it, "a few voices, and not very loud."

"Still no sign they have noticed our actions?"

"Harbour-boy!" Neeshka said, in mock shock. "Red Wizards noticing something as perfectly normal as death and dying screams and roars of rage?"

"Your lady has a point," smiled Gann, "well, four if you count both horns and the tip of her tail as well. Expecting Red Wizards to notice their fellows being slain is like expecting a farmer to notice the constant clucking of his chickens."

"And they seem to pose as much threat to us as the chickens to the farmer," groused Okku. "And the farmer would not be as cautious entering their run."

"I have not been suggesting they would care," protested Blake, more to the two mortals than the bear-god, "simply that because killing each other _is_ so normal they would be alert for if someone intended it for them. But as long as they remain oblivious let us take advantage."

"So this room first?" Neeshka asked, sidling up to the closer doorway.

Blake nodded and his sweetheart smoothly pushed the door open. The voices became more audible as she did and they seemed to have not noticed this subtle motion, or to pay much attention, until something, probably Blake's armour, made enough noise to break their discussion. For a moment the four Red Wizard students just looked at the three intruders and the bear-god looming behind them. Then one spoke and made Blake wonder again how these people could be Wizards with such a lack of intelligence.

"There are no _slaves_ allowed on school grounds, so you're fair game."

The chinstrap of Blake's helmet was the only thing that prevented his mouth hanging open too far in surprise. "Are you a complete moron?" he asked, stabbing his sword out and into that student's chest just below his breastbone. Blake heaved his sword up and tilted it so the rapidly dying student slid off and onto his back. "Do you really have slaves running around armed and armoured with a bear-god fighting alongside them?"

"That _would_ explain the number of corpses in the hallways little-one," Okku rumbled, Neeshka having to dodge as he charged past her.

Blake staggered slightly as lacking his darling's speed, and being preoccupied by his puzzlement and with dumping the student, he failed to move clear. Of course if being brushed against was enough to stagger Blake then the effect of Okku's charge on his intended targets was far more dramatic. The bear-god clawed and snapped with speed and brutal power as the trio went sprawling and in almost less time than it took Blake to recover they were nothing more than lumps of meat and offal. Okku nodded his great head in satisfaction while Neeshka, showing her excellent sense of priorities, checked the shattered corpses and crates and furniture for anything nice.

His beloved's movements were much more pleasant to look at than the remains of the students so Blake tried to distract himself with those in the time before she finished and they could leave the room. Moving back to the corner he looked again down this corridor and could see what was likely the other doorway into the Soul Depository on one side and a couple of doors on the other. Neeshka slipped past him and to the closer door where she listened for a moment. A frown came to her pretty face and she reached into her pack to withdraw a small mirror on an extending stick.

Blake recognised this as something she used to get different angles on trap mechanisms and that it had been quite surprising how much could be seen in it. Whether it was just good workmanship or had some magic as well even Neeshka was not sure as the way she had acquired it had not let her ask the previous owner. Or rather not without that owner realising why it had gone missing and where it had gone missing to. She cracked the door open and slid her mirror-stick through the gap and squinted slightly at what she could see. Okku rumbled mildly at the wait but Neeshka ignored him as she silently withdrew her mirror stick and put it away. Then to Blake's shock she suddenly plunged in through the door.

Despite the speed his concern lent him by the time Blake caught up it was over and Neeshka was standing over a Red Wizard student with a neatly slit neck. The stick of chalk lying near her hand and the scribbling and rubbing out on the blackboard showed what had fatally distracted this girl. Neeshka grinned in triumph as Blake wiped off his sword so he could scabbard it and look at the blackboard. The equations and flow of the logic was rather baffling though.

Gann took the chance to peer into the next room and returned with a puzzled expression. "There are Mephits in there," Gann reported as the Red Wizard student choked and drowned in her own blood at their feet.

"That would tally with this," nodded Blake, "something about order from chaos and that Mephits are chaotic. Does seem familiar…" He reached into his pack, withdrew the lab journal Neeshka had retrieved from the headmistress' room, and read for a few moments as the girl by his boots finally finished dying. "Yes, this does seem one of the experiments designed by Nefris for manipulating souls."

"Then we should destroy it!" Okku roared, casting a dirty look at the student's corpse as he realised what she had been working on.

"I… would… agree with you my friend," sighed Blake, looking between blackboard and book, "but there is that inscription. If I am reading this right the experiment here is designed to repair a soul that has been splintered. To use the principle of 'sympathy' so making order from the chaos of the Mephits will resonate to re-order the fragments of soul to their former less chaotic state."

"Hrm, as sorry as I feel for that soul, little-one, I am unsure if trying to restore it is our best course," Okku murmured. "Best to not stain our paws with this sort of magic and instead trust whatever gods it worshipped have mercy if we free it from that housing."

"If the soul was worthy in life I am sure they would," Blake said, looking uncomfortable, "but I must confess I was not thinking in terms of mercy or compassion for this splintered soul. That you thought I was shames me as I was actually considering how to get the door in the tower open and if we needed to complete this experiment and use this soul as one of the four keys."

"Rrrr," growled Okku. "I dislike this talk of souls as something to be manipulated."

"As do I," Blake replied, "but if the door is as tough as Neeshka says then this seems the only way."

"Perhaps, but perhaps not," rumbled Okku, flexing his huge shoulders, "even if she could not scratch it I could, and could do more than _just_ that."

"Of that I have no doubt but, with respect, I do not think your claws would bite very deep, and although your stamina would let you eventually wear though it with even the slightest scratches that might take longer than we can afford."

"Very well, little one," sighed Okku. "I trust you and your mate and your judgement of her judgement of the door. And better this is done by you rather than by Red Wizards who would exploit the knowledge."

"Thank you for your trust, my friend," Blake replied, turning back to the blackboard. "As much as Oghma values all knowledge I do agree there are some things where the cost of learning is too high."

A few minutes of intense study ended with Blake frowning at the pedestal and then going into the other room to frown at the lever sticking out of a box on the floor. "I think the experiment is set up and ready to go, and it is as simple, or as difficult, as separating the Mephits by type."

"I expect we could fit them through those bars," replied Gann, "though it would be difficult to grab them from the other side."

A Mephit made a rude noise at Gann and flew an intricate little series of dips and turns and climbs. The noise and the movement combined to convey the message that Gann would find it difficult to grab them on this side as well. Gann looked calmly at the small flying creature and it made another rude noise at him and showed him its arse. "Do they have to be alive?" Gann asked, turning to Blake with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

"Not according to the equations," replied Blake, "and it would make them easier to catch and fit through the bars if they were not." The Mephits fluttered a little more anxiously until Blake continued. "But… there is another method that, unless they become too annoying, we shall persist with."

With that Blake moved to the lever and, glancing at where the Mephits were, pulled on it. Beams of multicoloured magic joined the obelisks around the room and struck the two Mephits closest to the lever. There was a brief glow and then the pair of opposite type found themselves where the other had been so the balance was less even. With some obscene gestures the two Mephits hurriedly flew off away from the bars dividing the room and out of range of whatever that had been. Blake ignored them to pull the lever again and managed to further sort the Mephits. But then by the third attempt the Mephits seemed to have got the idea and at the last moment one flew away and another flew closer so the two Blake swapped were of the same type and he did not improve matters.

From the noises this provoked the Mephits found this amusing and Blake was sure they would find it even more amusing if they managed to make him swap them back towards being more evenly mixed. "Herd them?" he suggested tentatively.

It was unfortunate that the village Blake grew up in was a swamp village and that their domestic animals were restricted almost entirely to pigs that did not require much open space and were very happy with table scraps and the nice soft soil to root about in. Had there been any grassy fields for sheep around West Harbour then Blake would have had more experience in telling the difference between things that could be herded, like sheep, and which were rather more unbiddable, like pigs.

The Mephits did their best to evade the attempts to corral them. A few times Okku, Neeshka, and Gann did manage, briefly, to succeed in keeping all but the sort Blake needed away from one side of the bars but that success was spoilt by those on the other side. By their nature Mephits could not cooperate for long but they could for long enough that one of the wrong sort could escape from the trio before one of the right sort came close to the other side of the bars to be swapped. This went on for a while with the Mephits having much more fun than anybody else was.

"Let me try something," Neeshka said as Blake considered if the Mephits had become too annoying yet.

Blake nodded and stepped away from the lever, which Neeshka immediately pulled. This swapped two Mephits of the same sort and Blake frowned very lightly in puzzlement. He loved and trusted Neeshka but that did make him wonder if she understood what they were trying to do. Then Neeshka jiggled the lever and the beams of magic flashed like a spluttering torch. Back and forth the Mephits were swapped and when Neeshka stopped they both seemed to be dazed. They wobbled off, Neeshka's eyes followed their progress, and she pulled the lever again.

One of the wobbly Mephits had got far enough that the ray did not strike it but the other found itself swapped again, and for one of the opposite sort. Blake smiled as he belatedly realised what Neeshka was doing. She started jiggling the lever again and keeping a pair of Mephits close until there was a chance to again let one wobble away and be replaced by one she wanted to actually transfer. From the rude noises and gesturing this method was not regarded by the Mephits as being as amusing as the attempts to herd them had been.

Gradually Neeshka managed to sort the Mephits. Their inability to work together meant this took a moderate amount of time. Not as long as if they had been working against her but far longer than had they decided the best way to avoid the risk of being dazed in the rapid transferring was to get this over and done with. Each Mephit thought it could avoid that and none of them cared about it happening to the others. In their wrestling for position they gave Neeshka enough opportunities that suddenly the rays of magic extended out and struck the soul on the pedestal as the final pair of Mephits were swapped.

There was a brief glow around the spherical soul housing and a less brief burst of curse-noises from the Mephits as they realised they had been sorted. Blake ignored the latter in favour of investigating the former though Okku spared the time to growl at the Mephits before he followed back into the room with the blackboard. Circling the pedestal Blake looked at the soul housing from different angles.

"Did it work?" Neeshka asked, impatient with her harbour-boy.

"Not entirely," replied Blake, reaching out and picking the soul housing up. He turned it over in his hand a little and looked at it some more before continuing. "The soul looks fractured still, but like a vase more expertly repaired so the cracks are less visible. Which is either a relief… as it means the Red Wizards would have failed again… or this experiment was never meant to fully succeed. 'Splintered' the rhyme for the door mentioned so 'splintered' this remained. Hopefully this is what we require though."

"May it be so," Okku rumbled. "I do not want you to have to experiment more on souls. Even if the experiment does not involve annoying little flying things."

"We do need four souls for the door," Blake reminded him, "but hopefully those we can find rather than create or alter."

There seemed little point in visiting the Soul Depository again so they continued down the corridor. The distance between the doors on the one side of the corridor had seemed rather great but having seen how much room the Mephit experiment and the Mephits took up that had been explained. Neeshka moved ahead of them and brought one delicately backswept pointed ear closer to this second door. She shrugged slightly to herself and rejoined them.

"Sounds like another lesson going on, so another classroom," Neeshka reported.

"So at least one Red Wizard of sufficient knowledge to be a teacher," nodded Blake, "and of sufficient power to have survived their coup."

"But… _as_ we have proven…" Okku grumbled, "unlikely to be of sufficient power to survive _us_."

Whether it was their continued use of some subtlety or whether it was the after effects of the mockery of the Mephits, worsened as that was endured to manipulate a soul, that was making Okku ill of temper Blake did not know. Moreover he did not really care as the situation was beginning to wear on him as well without having to deal with this complaining. But the bear-god was a worthy ally and a friend and if he was willing to be as co-operative as he was then Blake supposed he could tolerate the complaining about the caution they were showing.

Blake was sufficiently irritated though to take the lead in taking a few steps down the corridor and just walking straight into the room. Neeshka's full lips tightened in annoyance and she swiftly followed him. Gann could not suppress a grin to himself as he also followed. Though he suspected this was not deliberate he did appreciate how Blake had done to Neeshka what she had done to him with the previous room and how she had reacted in such a similar way. Despite the obvious nature of their arrival and how this was made even more so by Okku's continued sub-vocal murmuring the lesson seemed continue unabated.

"What about that?" demanded the female Red Wizard at the front of the classroom. "_Can_ you duplicate a soul?" Her gaze fixed on a nervous looking student. "Atsu, what do _you_ think?"

"I think we have invaders Mistress Zeruza!" Atsu said in a rather high-pitched voice, glancing back over his shoulder before looking back at the teacher.

"Two Demerits!" Zeruza replied. "If you are to become _any_ sort of Wizard you need to learn to ignore irrelevant distractions!" Atsu started to relax, despite the demerits, as he began to assume from her attitude this was just a test, but then he tensed again as she continued. "But if you cannot focus for the presence of something so insignificant then I shall have to remove this before we continue."

With that Mistress Zeruza began reciting arcane words and gesturing. What spell she intended to use became unclear though as Blake had started his own spellcasting when Zeruza had said 'remove' and, since he did not need to use the gestures, this had been rather less obvious. A _Vitriolic Sphere_ erupted from Blake's hand and the ball of magical acid streaked across the classroom to strike Zeruza in the upper chest and neck and face. This spell had burned through far tougher skin than hers and far tougher armour than robes and her spellcasting failed as the pain and the sudden blistering of her lips muffled her voice.

Though Zeruza took the brunt, her robes and skin blackened and peeling away, her lips sufficiently destroyed there was a glint of teeth as she fell, the acid also spread out to burn at the blackboard and the desks and students in the front row. The blackboard smoked, the desks charred, and the students screamed. If Atsu had been nervous before he now seemed paralysed with fear and shock and unable to even turn his eyes away from what had happened at the front of the room.

"You had more sense than she did," Blake said, causing Atsu to jerkily turn his head to look at him. "If you remember this in your afterlife then remember you were better able to judge what was 'irrelevant' or 'insignificant'. Now though… goodbye Atsu."

Atsu had an instant to connect the mention of the afterlife and being told goodbye and then Blake's sword came down to cleave halfway from the crown of his head to his jaw. The skull and the brain it had tried to protect gave little resistance to the blade either going in or being pulled back up and out. Neeshka had also struck and before Blake had spoken, almost before Blake had finished casting his spell, she had brought her rapier across in front of the next nearest student and efficiently slit her throat almost to the spine.

Gann meanwhile had gone for Mistress Zeruza. If asked he'd have claimed this was practical, that despite her horrific injuries she was still a Wizard of significant power and so still the greatest danger. As true as that was there was also an element of mercy in his choice as though the injuries inflicted by Blake's _Vitriolic Sphere_ were horrific and making it very hard for her to breathe this was only slowly killing Zeruza. Gann's spear plunged down and through the Red Wizard's heart to end her suffering and end the risk of her recovering to become a threat.

One of the remaining students managed to stumble to his feet and against the wall despite his eyes being tightly squeezed shut with the after-effects of the small part of the _Vitriolic Sphere_ that had reached him. Tears ran down his cheek of pain and fear as he tried to force himself to keep his eyes open and felt his way along the wall towards the doorway. Unfortunately for him this also brought him towards Okku and the bear-god had no objection to striking at temporarily blinded prey. A huge paw smashed into the Red Wizard student and flung him in a bloody heap most of the way back he'd come. Chest crushed and torn and his heart burst the student was dead before he landed.

Blake sighed as Neeshka punched her bracer blade across the back of the final student's neck. She turned and gave her harbour-boy a reassuring smile as that student slumped forward onto his desk. Blake returned the smile but even Neeshka could not completely raise his spirits. No mercy and no survivors had seemed quite fair when he had only just read Nefris' journal and was anticipating a desperate struggle. Killing people when those that tried to fight were no great threat and those that could have been a threat, like this idiot teacher, betrayed their power with their arrogant stupidity was beginning to wear on him though.

"Remember what Kana said," Neeshka commented, attuned to her harbour-boy's shifting moods. "About war not being a matter of glorious duels…"

"It's about killing the enemy," nodded Blake, a small part of him puzzled as he'd not known Neeshka was there and listening, "preferably before the enemy even knows they are being killed."

Okku grumbled again at this dishonourable idea. You should approach openly, show your foe your strength, and make proper challenge so they could choose to yield or be destroyed in a fair contest. If your strength was the greater then you had nothing to fear and their death would be their fault as it would have been their choice to attempt to resist. Blake turned slightly to look at the bear-god and scowled a little. As much as killing the near defenceless was not to his taste it was far closer to palatable than risking Neeshka be injured. She'd reminded him that efficiency was the goal.

"A charge of heavy cavalry can look magnificent," Blake commented, pretending to not address anyone in particular, "but when that meets a hidden trench full of sharpened stakes that magnificence is irrelevant. And the splendour of the armour of men and horses is no help when grubby soldiers with knives swarm over them."

"Let us hope, little-one," rumbled Okku, unconvinced, "that we can regain some splendour soon. Sneaking from room to room slitting throats fits ill with my dignity and would not make a good act for one of Magda's plays."

Blake decided to not say how little he cared about Magda's plays compared with an efficient victory. Instead he simply nodded and wandered out of this classroom back into the corridor. They were quite close to where this corridor joined the cross-corridor at the end nearest the doors so he continued down it. Looking along the cross-corridor he realised they had not investigated one corner of the building since the thumping had drawn their attention. Moving across cautiously to the door there he hesitated and gestured Neeshka forward. He detested having to ask her to be closer to a door through which danger might come but she had the pretty ears, and the less pretty experience, to hear and judge what she heard.

"A few voices," Neeshka murmured to them when she returned. "Doesn't sound like a lesson."

"On the upside that means no teacher," Gann said smoothly, "on the downside it means no lecture to distract them and, if this is not a classroom, we have less idea how the furniture is arranged."

"Not that it matters how it _was_ arranged once Okku charges," smiled Blake. "But… do you think you can get a look my love?"

"I can try," Neeshka replied, slipping back over to the door and fiddling in her pack for her mirror on a stick.

With her usual grace and precision Neeshka reached out to the doorknob and slowly turned it. As she pushed the door to slip her mirror-stick through there was a hideous creaking and she turned apologetic and startled eyes to Blake. He gave her a very quick smile but he gave that smile as he moved. Neeshka had to quickly step out of the way as Blake shoved his shield into the door and slammed it open. He'd expected that at some point the Red Knight's blessings might desert their plans but it was still annoying to see the Red Wizard students were already facing the door and that, rather than being surprised, their hands and mouths were already moving to cast spells.

Perhaps they had been in here plotting and that was why they had been more alert but the important things were that they had been more alert and that they were securely behind a long table that even Okku would have difficulty hurdling or barging aside. The piles of skulls on counters around the room and the skeleton on that long table reminded Blake of why these people deserved death. But he did not let that decor distract him from heading right, keeping his shield between himself and the students as he tried to get around the table.

Behind him Okku managed to roar his way into the room despite Neeshka's efforts to be the next through the door. His determination to spill more Red Wizard blood and her determination to get to her harbour-boy were similar in extent but the bear-god weighed rather more. Something Blake was aware of as it was far more comfortable having his Tiefling snuggle up and lie partially on him in camp than it had been when Okku had been trying to crush him back in the barrow. Okku's initial charge slowed as the narrowness of the gaps between counters and tables stymied him a little as he tried to squeeze through.

Neeshka cursed a little as Okku's great furry arse got in her way but there was just enough headroom for her to vault over him. That and the colours of Okku's form were a spectacular enough sight to draw one student's attention and he cast his missile storm at them. Even a lesser version of that spell was too great in power for Neeshka's new shield to affect but to Blake's relief it did look like a lesser storm and as much as he liked Okku he was happy the bear-god was there in his bulk to have most of the missiles strike him rather than Neeshka. Blake did not have much chance to feel that relief however as the other two had stayed focussed on him and had chosen a similar attack.

A flurry of projectiles of magical energy streaked away from the two students and in at Blake. That they arced out to strike from the sides and from above was far less irritating when it was you casting the spell to see them curve around an enemy's shield. In a way though Blake was glad that his shield only blocked two of the missiles as he'd not yet found an enchanter able to add the same magic-proofing to it as his armour possessed. The shield was rare and expensive enough he'd rather take a few more hits on his armour and suffer a little more pain than have it seriously damaged.

Fortunately this was only a _little_ more pain as the individual missiles had not the power to seriously overwhelm his armour's ability to absorb and re-radiate the energy away. It was only the few places the glowing spots overlapped that were uncomfortable and the students began backing away as Blake ignored their spells and they realised he was almost within sword's reach.

Okku was even less affected as he was simply too tough for such a minor attack to be worthy of his notice. That he was a little broader than the route he was attempting to take was also unworthy of his notice and there was a cracking of wood as it split and as joints popped and broke apart. Along the wall where countertops were braced against that some of them began to resemble roofs as the planks that made them were squashed together and buckled upwards. Seeing this dramatic advance the student that had attacked the bear-god began to retreat only to realise his friends were having the same thought in the opposite direction.

Their concern about the threat of the huge spirit-bear and of the moderately large and heavily armoured man was well justified. That did distract them though from the greater peril as Neeshka was angry. She had dodged or sheltered behind Okku to avoid the magical missiles but the one that had found her had stung. More important she could see that her harbour-boy was looking piebald again with impact spots and that annoyed her even more. The strong muscles of her rear and thighs flexed as she sprang up and onto the counter. There was a slight crunch as her boot landed on the dry bone of the display skeleton and the student in the middle had just enough time to look at her in surprise before she crouched and brought her right arm across. The blade on that bracer sliced across his neck and he fell backwards with a blood muffled scream.

"No, you don't," Blake growled as the other two Red Wizards started to react and turn. They were likely no threat to his beloved but Blake was not going to take any chances and not going to bother with much subtlety. An instant longer to aim the blow would have been necessary had there been armour to aim for the gaps or had he wanted to make it a neater more instantly fatal one.

As it was Blake just smashed his sword down in an overhand blow with its weight and some of his own behind it to slice the keen edge through the point of the student's shoulder. If this was lacking in precision it was not lacking in power and the blade continued on down through bone and flesh and out to hack that arm and part of that side of the student's chest away. Blake took the moment now to recover as the student collapsed and then, careful to not slip in the blood, stepped forward and stabbed down to finish that foe off even though with that massive wound he would soon have bled out.

The final student had turned towards the Tiefling as she killed his friend that had been standing nearest to him, and then turned away as the armoured man smashed his other friend to the floor and into pieces. He took a few steps to flee before realising, through his fear, that this had taken him to the end of the counter and to where that huge bear had managed to smash his way to. Okku lunged and the last Red Wizard student disappeared under his teeth and claws.

Neeshka made a slight noise of protest as the counter rocked with Okku's lunge and she had to keep her balance. Blake smiled to her and, stabbing his sword into a corpse and leaning it against the counter, offered her a hand. She smiled back and graciously accepted it as if she was a fine lady descending from a carriage rather than her stepping down from a counter onto a bloody floor. Blake raised her hand to brush a kiss across her fingertips and she grinned wider and semi-curtsied before he released her and picked his sword up again.

"Perhaps we have been over cautious," Gann commented as Blake shook some of the gore off his blade, "they were expecting trouble… it seems… and still died with impressive speed."

Okku raised his head and grumbled agreement through his bloody muzzle. There was little he and the Hagspawn were in accord about, though that little did include their basic morals and respect for the spirits, but for once there was sense in his flow of words. His barrow and sleep called to him and delay in completing his curse kept him from this as well as caution sitting ill with his nature.

Smiling slightly Blake replied. "Okku may be too angry to notice and Neeshka too graceful to be hit, but I can assure you, my friend, those missiles stung."

"I'd not dispute you over that," nodded Gann, looking at the faint remains of the fading spots, "and I suppose had these been more skilled or powerful they would do more than sting. I recall you losing your breastplate in that dream when it was unable to absorb the magic."

"Hrm, little-one," Okku rumbled, ignoring the conversation, "there is a stench like that foul temple in the shadow realm."

Blake moved to join Okku as Neeshka made sure her Rapier was free in its scabbard and Gann brought his spear back into a guard position. No scent reached Blake's nose but he could feel the hunger within him react and that it was similar to how it had reacted to the undead infesting Myrkul's Vault. There was the temptation to loosen his grip on the curse and let it reach out further, to actually taste what was beyond this door rather than just knowing it was writhing in response to something. But he had gone through too much pain in denying the hunger to allow himself to now accept an excuse to use it to avoid a surprise.

"The curse is reacting to something behind that door," Blake said simply.

"Should we investigate?" asked Gann. "Or if that door is sturdy and securely locked leave it thus?"

"Our intent is to flatten this Academy," Blake sighed, "so we should check if whatever is in there would survive and be freed by that."

Gann looked as if he didn't quite see the need but Neeshka silently crept forward at her harbour-boy's words. She glanced at the lock and hesitated for a moment over whether to pick it or whether to have less fun and use one of the keys they'd got from that Red Wizard teacher. With a feeling of self-sacrifice and that she was being virtuous by saving those few seconds she inserted the key, clicked the lock open, withdrew the key, and began to move back. Suddenly the door almost imploded open as something yanked at it from the other side and Neeshka's casual dignified retreat became a bounding leap that ended with her crouched ready to fight and with her Rapier in her hand.

The doorway filled with three Dread Wraiths. With their shifting floating forms and how one was partially visible through another it was hard to tell where one started and another ended, or which of them was in front and which behind. As reflexive as Neeshka's leap back had been so was Blake's step forward to place his shield and his armour and himself between her and whatever danger there was. The Dread Wraiths eddied and then Blake's shield made a noise like a door being knocked on. The blow was not strong but it was precise and there was a creak of leather shield straps as Blake compensated for the attempt to twist and shift them and the shield out of line. Angling his shield so a follow up blow might come in more directly and push his shield back against his arm rather than around it Blake swung his sword out and through what looked like a concentration of darkness.

He was not sure how much resistance his blade ought to have met but to his annoyance he was sure that it had not met enough. Perhaps the barely visible swirling had been a Dread Wraith avoiding the blow or perhaps he'd misjudged what part of what wraith was where. Either way he'd missed and as he began drawing his sword back for another attack he felt a sudden impact. This was just as precise as the previous one and no stronger but it was aimed at his sword rather than shield.

A slight curse escaped Blake's lips as he felt his sword hilt shift within the leather-clad fingers and palm of his gauntlet as the shock of the blow travelled up the blade. Recovering and restoring his grip on his sword Blake finished bringing his sword back and brought it up into a guard position as he tried to figure out where to shove it so the magic on it might find something to harm. The three pairs of glowing spots that served the Dread Wraiths as eyes looked back. There was another shift in the darkness and a blow Blake took easily on his shield but also a second that made him come even closer to dropping his sword.

He cursed again as he had to spend precious moments restoring his grip on his weapon rather than using it. That these things were correct in thinking that he could so much less harm to them with his armoured fist or his dagger only made them trying to deny him his sword even more annoying. "Careful, they are trying to disarm me."

A low rumbling chuckle came from Blake's left at these words and a smile came to Blake's face as he remembered something and stepped back. The Dread Wraiths floated after him to press their attack rather than let him escape but as soon as they were clear of the doorway and into the main room Okku sprang. He had no hands and no weapon to be knocked from them and had the width and strength to attack all the wraiths at once and find out that way which was in front of which. The mass of shadow was crushed together into the floor and wall and writhed beneath Okku as he clawed and bit at it.

Tendrils of shadow flitted across Okku's mighty form. Had Okku still been a bear of flesh then the wounds these left would have bled copiously and he would have had vulnerable veins and arteries and tendons the Dread Wraiths' precision might have managed to cut. As it was though his spirit form swiftly healed and the only blood on him was the last remains of that from the Red Wizard student. That the Dread Wraiths were not inflicting much harm on Okku was clear but it was hard to tell how much he was hurting them or how securely he had them pinned under his claws.

Gann stepped forward to assist and beseeched the sadly abused spirits of Thay for their aid in healing Okku. This was not really necessary for the well-being of the bear-god but as the energies rippled out from their focus on Okku they passed across Blake and Neeshka and through the Dread Wraiths. The two mortals exchanged smiles at the relief of their slight aches but the undead were more affected. A faint light glimmered through their forms and their writhing became more pained than attempts to escape or inflict pain. Okku continued to shred away at them until he realised the only shadow beneath him was his own.

"Those, I think, would have survived," commented Gann as Okku harrumphed and spat a few times to get the strange taste out of his mouth. "But with Thay being as it is I am not sure if them being freed would have been a bad thing."

"There are peasants and slaves in this land," Blake reminded him, wiping his sword, "and those would have made easier prey than Red Wizards."

"True," admitted Gann, with a wry smile, "surrounded as we are by their corpses and enmeshed as we are by their deeds it is hard to remember the most visible face of Thay is not the only face."

Neeshka checked the corpses and then drawers and chests and crates. Some of the drawers were stuck as they had been damaged by Okku crushing them aside along with the table they were in so Neeshka took the chance to dimple and coo at Blake. It would have been a better show if he'd not been in armour, but she still liked seeing her harbour-boy flex and use his strength and liked making him feel useful. Blake happily obliged with pulling at drawers and wrenching up at countertops and soon they had sorted through the loot except for one strange cube.

Blake picked it up and turned it so different sides caught the light. Putting it back on the counter next to the skeleton Neeshka had stepped on and Okku had nearly tipped onto the floor Blake pulled out Nefris' journal and flipped through a few pages, looking back and forth from book to box. With a 'hmm' and a disgruntled expression Blake put the book away and drew his sword again.

"From the similarity of Runes I'd say this was designed to work and shape spirit essences," Blake explained. Then he smashed his sword down through the cube and a little way into the countertop.

"Are you sure that was not over hasty?" asked Gann, with a very mild frown. "I have my qualms but if Nak'kai is willing to use spirit essences in a ritual on Okku then their use cannot be completely unconscionable."

"I know myself, my friend," Blake smiled. "You recall what I said about this curse and how I would have assessed it had I not learned why that was unwise?"

"Ah, yes," breathed Gann, "so that cube would have been a similar temptation? You'd have wanted enough spirit essences to explore all the combinations."

"I can tell you he likes to try and compare different angles… on things," Neeshka winked, "though not combinations, yet."

Blake was torn between embarrassment and a sudden image that made him wonder whether he'd needed to make a choice between two possibilities. Whether there had been another option that would have led to the satisfaction of all three parties involved. On the other hand although he had a degree of confidence in his abilities he was not sure he had that much confidence or anywhere near enough stamina. Not to keep up with both a Tiefling _and_ an Elf. Neeshka giggled at the shifting expressions on Blake's face and at the somewhat intense blush he gave when Gann caught his eye and raised an eyebrow in a 'I know what you are thinking' expression.

Leaving the room and travelling back up the right-hand corridor Blake's blush slowly faded and he was glad to get back to business. "Stairs there," he said, stating the obvious as he gestured to them.

"Have we checked this room yet?" Neeshka asked, pointing behind them.

Blake turned. "No, you are right," he nodded. "We haven't."

Listening at the door revealed nothing, even to Neeshka's keen ears, so cautiously Blake pushed it open. There was a smell of smoke and scorched concoctions and this was less surprising as they saw the cauldrons and a forge with a Clay Golem standing beside it. It appeared this was a workshop but looking at the equipment left Blake feeling less than completely enlightened to its purpose. "Golem," Blake said, taking the direct route, "what is your function and that of this room?"

"Oh. H… hello there," replied the Golem, raising its gaze from considering the floor to looking at Blake.

"Hello there?" Blake repeated in surprise. "You don't sound like a normal Golem…"

"I'm not one. Not really," said the Golem before explaining. "My mind and soul were transferred to this body. I wanted to be able to work with heat but still use my hands. Clay can take a lot of heat.

"A delusional Golem," commented Gann quietly, "interesting."

"I am not so sure it is delusional," Blake murmured back. "My curse is reacting slightly to him, so _some_ part of a soul might have been transferred." He raised his voice back to a more normal level. "So, back to my first question. What do you do here?"

"Huh? Oh, I work," replied the Golem. Perhaps realising that was not a useful reply the Golem continued. "Sometimes they ask me to teach but mostly I study. My background is in crafting. I want to apply it to souls. Most of my work fails, but there have been breakthroughs, so they let me stay."

"You work with souls," Blake frowned. "You follow the same path as Nefris?"

"We had similar interests," nodded the Golem, not picking up on Blake's expression or tone as it warmed to its subject. "We approached them differently but she heard of my work and arranged for me to work here so we might share ideas. When we talked it was about altering souls. Splitting them, reassembling them, moving them, and replicating them. Most of what we try hasn't been done before."

"And for good reason," Gann muttered.

"Agreed," muttered Blake back.

"Little-one," Okku rumbled, trying to match their subtlety but not quite managing to be as quiet in his voice, "why does this Golem still function?"

"It may be of some use, if we find we have questions," replied Blake quietly. Okku looked dissatisfied until Blake added. "But before we leave we shall grind it to dust and release any fragment of mind or soul that might be trapped in it."


	18. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The expressionless face of the Clay Golem did not change as they left but once they had left it plodded back into motion and with as much speed as its thoughts and its body would allow began moving around the room. It was slow and calm but that was not the same as being stupid, and appearing simple minded and focussed on your studies had been a good survival trait in this Academy. Leaving and getting some distance between itself and that duo of bear and man seemed like it would be an even better survival trait now though.

Meanwhile Blake and the others had reached the bottom of the stairs and were looking down the hall ahead and to either side of them. As expected the stairs had bent around so they were facing the opposite way and these rooms were probably below those they had already cleared. With the air of a man deciding that any direction was better than none Blake headed to the left and the east. Neeshka bustled past him and, after briefly craning her neck to listen, pushed the door open and continued into the room. Following his sweetheart Blake looked around the room and at the piles of Golem parts and the inactive little winged homunculi.

"Not very tidy," Gann observed. "But certainly has a lived in feel to it."

"Surprised it has not been ransacked," said Blake. Gann gave him an inquisitive look so Blake explained. "Those things look like what was accompanying the Red Wizard that was sent to Okku's barrow to pose as a rescuer. So this might have been her room and, if so, might have had clues to her mother's doings."

"Room can be searched without leaving much evidence," Neeshka pointed out, as she proved her words.

"Has it been?" Blake asked.

"Not sure," admitted Neeshka, popping a few trinkets away, "they'd not have been after the same things as me, and there's no obviously missing scrolls or books."

Blake looked around the room again. "I don't think there is anything to learn here," he sighed, "we know from what Neeshka saw and heard that being sent to the barrow was a surprise to this Red Wizard so even if we found a journal there would be no clues in it."

The others nodded, even Okku, so leaving the room as they had found it except for the absence of a few shiny things they headed back down the short corridor and continued on to what would have been their right. There was a table whose drawer Neeshka swiftly checked and a door that she found was locked and which she shook her head about once she had listened at it. "Sounds empty," Neeshka whispered.

"I doubt the same result ahead," murmured Okku, "even if you cannot I can smell the presence of Gnolls."

Gann paused and sniffed. "It is distinctive."

While Blake tried to decide if Gann was bluffing or if his nose was actually that good Neeshka moved forward to listen at this door. She shrugged prettily to Blake at what she heard and drew her Rapier. Blake nodded back and drew his larger sword as he considered whether there was some magic he could cast that would make the next fight easier. Filling the entire room beyond that door with flame might be a good start but would also be counter-productive to searching the rest of this Academy if the building as well as the Gnolls caught fire.

Impatient with all the hesitation and planning and attempts to think how to make this go smoother Okku padded forward to smash one great paw into the door. It disintegrated into a rain of splinters, the hinges hung down, twisted by the impact and with a few remnants of wood still screwed to them, and there was a clatter as the door latch landed and skittered across the floor of the room. Okku lunged forward. There was a crack of wood and metal as the bear-god passed and brushed against the doorframe and one hinge, tearing part of the former from the wall and snapping the already abused latter in two.

Although he expected the bear-god needed little help Blake more neatly followed Okku through the doorway. Four Gnolls clad in the same armour as those outside were reacting to the sudden arrival. Two were already bringing their halberds into position to try to fend Okku off while a third was moving to recover his from where it had been leaning against a wall. The fourth Gnoll had an unstrung bow in his hand but he glanced at Blake and threw this aside before snarling and showing he had decided to rely on his teeth and claws rather than take the time to string the bow at these close quarters.

Blake did agree with the Gnoll that there was not much room despite the lack of furniture. There was enough though that with the reach of their halberds the Gnolls might be able to stab at Okku's flanks if those were not protected. Blake continued into the room, heading straight on with the wall to his right, Neeshka on his heels and Gann moving a little crabwise to his left along the other wall. The Gnoll that had thrown away the bow tensed and then sprang at Okku.

Okku turned to meet this but it had been a feint. Despite the apparent effort put into the spring the Gnoll did little more than take a half-step forward and the one to his right took advantage of Okku's turn for his own attack. Being a wily old bear-god with experience of pack predators, whether on four legs or two, Okku had not been completely fooled and with even greater speed whirled to face that halberd strike. He bounced back on his mighty legs a little to avoid it and counterattack but unfortunately this swung his great haunches towards Blake and in bouncing back he arse-butted Blake against the wall.

Compared with the bear-god's might this was an insignificant blow but it was enough that Blake, his attention on the weapon less Gnoll, had some breath driven from him and it did trigger Blake's _Death Armour_. One had to be careful with auras to hurt attackers as they could easily hurt friends if the spell was poorly crafted and lacked safeguards such as prevented it triggering from Neeshka's friendly touch or when Okku's earlier charge had brushed against Blake. This time however with the spell sensing through Blake there was danger and with the arse-butt being such a solid blow the aura flared up.

Surprised at having his rear burned by magic energy Okku lunged forward again and into the Gnolls. There was a solid sounding thunk as he embedded himself onto the halberd he had been trying to avoid and a slight skitter of foot-claws as the shock travelled up the halberd shaft and the Gnoll holding it lost his balance. A long shallow cut appeared along Okku's other side as he also grazed the blade of that halberd. Fortunately for Okku as surprised as he'd been by the pain in his behind it seemed the Gnolls were almost as surprised by him throwing himself on their weapons. He'd driven them back into the corner and more into each other's way.

Blake took a few deep breaths as he tried to regain his wind and decide if that was a good thing or not. It did seem that retreating into the corner to defend themselves while howling for reinforcements and to raise the alarm might have been better for the Gnolls. Of course that was assuming there were any reinforcements within earshot and that the Gnolls would be willing to embarrass themselves by asking for help. And would have had the disadvantage that their halberds would have been no defence against magic.

Seeing the Gnoll who had cut Okku withdraw his halberd for a more forceful and more aimed attack Gann stabbed past and over the bear-god's head to pre-empt this. The Gnoll jerked away as he caught the flicker of movement but the edge of Gann's spearhead still sliced across the Gnoll's throat just beneath the line of the jaw. It was not a very deep wound but it did not have to be deep to bleed heavily and to throw off the Gnoll's attack with the pain and the evasion and the sudden uncertainty over whether to attack the great colourful bear or this grey-skinned spearman.

Neeshka had moved to guard Blake while he recovered his breath and as she wondered if she could find an excuse to 'accidentally' stab Okku. She was more agile than her harbour-boy but, even with not being as directly behind the behind, she had barely jumped back in time to avoid being arse-butted as well. Blake gave her a quick smile as he continued along the wall and out from behind Okku and around. Neeshka smiled back as her desire for retribution on Okku faded a little with the passing moments.

Glancing again at the approaching Blake the weapon less Gnoll sprang again at Okku, this time with less visible tensing but with more force. The paws of the Gnoll with the stuck halberd skidded slightly as he wrestled against the bear-god's slight attempt to turn. Whether it was the force of his push, the pain of his weapon in the wound, or if his efforts had been irrelevant the result was the same. Okku was slow enough the weapon less Gnoll landed on him and dug in with the claws of his hands and feet to start biting away like an over-ambitious wolf.

This seemed to be doing little damage thanks to the slope of Okku's neck and how that was made even steeper by the hump between his shoulder blades. There was also some doubt over whether a god-of-bears with a form of spirit-flesh still had a spine to be bitten at and severed even if the Gnoll managed to reach it. However as annoyed as Blake still was he saw no need to let the Gnoll continue with his attempts. If nothing else there was the selfish reason that the longer this went on the angrier Okku would get and the more likely it was he'd ignore the halberd in him and start throwing himself around to try to fling the Gnoll on him aside.

Blake had already been squashed between Okku and a wall once in this room and twice would be twice too many. He swept his sword out and towards the Gnoll with less care than he might have shown on other occasions. Whether it was luck or that his training was good enough his emotions did not much affect his skill he managed to avoid striking Okku and the edge of the tip of his sword sliced neatly into the Gnoll's side between the armour plates. Muscle and blood vessels parted and magic discharged into the wound, numbing one of the Gnoll's legs so the force of the blow knocked him off Okku and to the floor. Spirit-flesh shimmered above him and a pool of blood began to spread beneath him as Okku's form repaired itself and the Gnoll's mortal body failed to do so as swiftly.

Stabbing again Gann kept the attention of the Gnoll he had wounded as his spear clinked aside with a parry from that Gnoll's halberd. He was at a disadvantage matching those weapons against each other as the halberd had just as much reach and the ability to be used more like an axe as well as like a spear. However Gann preferred the extra speed he could give the smaller spearhead and was not concerned by the contest as he saw Okku's weight shift slightly. Freed of the encumbrance of a Gnoll hanging off his side Okku struck. Even he could not ignore the halberd stuck in him to rear up or twist his body. But he could ignore the pain well enough to sweep his left paw around low and take that Gnoll's legs out from under him.

Blake continued to advance and stabbed down at the weapon less Gnoll before he could recover. Against most of the foes they had encountered he could simply have driven his blade into the centre of the chest and the heart within. Being armoured this Gnoll instead got stabbed at the base of the neck, just above the breastplate where some wore an armoured neck-guard, and choked up blood as the hand's-width of razor sharp metal cut down through windpipe and veins and spine. Neeshka had moved to Blake's right where she could protect him while his sword was down. Since the only Gnoll in position to strike at him _still_ had his halberd stuck in Okku and had been tugged about a bit by his grip on it and Okku's movements this precaution was not completely needed. But Neeshka loved him and that was reason enough.

The Gnoll on the floor with the shredded legs twisted and managed to rather feebly bring the edge of his halberd blade up and into the side of Okku's belly. This made little impression but the final Gnoll had managed to untangle himself and step back and raise his halberd above his head to shorten it by angling the butt up. He stabbed down into Okku's shoulder like a whaler trying to finish off the exhausted leviathan beside his boat. Gann took a chance and, though the Gnoll on the floor could swing his halberd back and into his legs, stepped further into range. Raising his spear not quite as high as the other Gnoll's halberd Gann stabbed across past Okku again and into the armpit the Gnoll's still raised arms exposed.

Belatedly the Gnoll who had been wrestling with his stuck halberd gave up on freeing it as he realised how close Blake and Neeshka were. Focus and determination were good in many aspects of life but in battle, or even a fight, becoming obsessed with one thing could be a fatal mistake. So it proved here as Neeshka's rapier flicked out and across the Gnoll's eyes at a slight angle before he could do more than simply release the halberd shaft. One eye popped as it was cut and the magic discharged into it and an instant later the other eye was blinded by the blood flooding into it from the cut above it. The Gnoll started to raise its hands to cup either side of its face but Blake's sword came in and with less subtlety than Neeshka's cut halfway through the Gnoll's thick neck.

Gann twisted his spear and pulled back, the spearshaft grating against where breast and back plate met, not satisfied with himself. He'd found the opening in the armour that was needed to let the arm move freely, but he'd not angled the blow well enough for it to be immediately fatal. As that Gnoll collapsed the one already there with the shredded legs finally started to swing his halberd towards Gann's boots. Gann stamped down at the swinging shaft so the blade caught into the rug and floor, though that still put him a little off-balance, and he had to take half a step back to compensate, as he'd needed to briefly stand on one foot. Before the sprawled out Gnoll could untangle his halberd and try another swing a pained and dazed looking Okku bit down at him. The halberds wobbled where they were stuck in the bear-god and a crunch came from where his jaws met on bone and flesh.

Seeing his last packmate die the armpit stabbed Gnoll snarled through the blood frothing at his mouth. He tried to move and to claw or bite at them with his last breaths so Neeshka combined mercy for him and good sense for her in not wanting her ankles and calves assaulted. The shaft of the halberd sticking horizontally from Okku was in the way but with deceptive ease and fluid grace she hopped over this and stabbed the Gnoll in the mouth and neck with two quick motions. His last snarl died with him in a gurgle of blood as Neeshka stepped back.

Blake looked at Okku. "If you can move back a bit, my friend, we can try to deal with those."

Okku grumbled and shuffled back a little as Blake handed his sword to Neeshka to hold and Gann leaned his spear against the wall. Despite the hindrance of Blake's shield the two of them managed to get hold of the halberd jutting up diagonally from Okku's shoulder. This was close to falling out anyway but it would do extra harm in working its way loose with Okku's motions and as his healing pushed at it. It took little effort for Gann and Blake to carefully pull it straight out and lay it aside. Blake then looked at the other halberd that made Okku look as if he had a lance tucked under his arm.

"This one could hurt a lot more," Blake warned. "Apologies in advance."

Okku growled in contempt at the warning and Blake had to damp down a sudden flare of temper. He was trying to be sympathetic even though he felt the pain was the bear-god's own fault, and even though he had put him in danger by winding him slightly in the middle of a fight. For a moment Blake felt angry words quivering on the tip of his tongue to return Okku's contempt with his own but good manners from his adoptive father Daeghun and his training in diplomacy kept those words from escape. Taking a firm grip on the deeply embedded halberd's shaft Blake and Gann heaved and manners and training did not keep Blake from heaving slightly harder than Gann expected.

The halberd slid out almost noiselessly and the butt of it came back and into the wall. Plaster cracked and a small chunk of it fell off as plaster dust settled and stuck to the bloody Gnolls and floor. Blake glared at this pockmark for an instant as he laid the halberd aside and recovered his sword from Neeshka. Even with all the noise this fight had produced with snarling and growling and the clatter of weapons and falling armoured bodies that was still dangerous. Prisoners in dungeons had discovered sound could travel well through walls when they were struck so that thump might have travelled further.

Okku's broad chest was heaving with pain as gradually his spirit form knitted itself together. He would never admit this to the little-one, and appreciated the little-one not reminding him of this, but perhaps caution and teamwork was not as pointless as it had seemed. They had still wasted much time but it may not have been as complete a waste of time as he had thought. This pondering was interrupted as Okku felt extra energy flow through him to aid his wounds. He inclined his head in thanks to Gann as he realised the Hagspawn had beseeched other spirits to lend that aid and Gann nodded back, with a slight smile as it was so rare he needed to help the bear-god in this way.

"That pain, that aura," Okku rumbled, breaking the near silence of cloth on metal as Blake wiped his sword, "that was not something I felt when last I struck you."

Blake considered asking if Okku meant back in the barrow, where they were enemies, or when Okku had barged past him in this academy. But Neeshka was looking as sour as her sweet nature could allow and asking the question would also be a reminder of both incidents. "I'd not prepared or cast that spell to persist, then," nodded Blake, adding after a moment, "and my, as Gann put it, biscuit skill means I can also make the fiery _Elemental Shield_ last twice as long as well as being more powerful with my extra practice."

Okku rumbled in acknowledgement as Neeshka gave him a final look and started examining the room and corpses for loot. Blake spent a few happy moments watching his beloved move, then frowned slightly as he looked around and remembered his earlier thought about there not being much furniture.

"This does not look like a barracks."

"I think there was a sign saying these downstairs were 'Instructors' Quarters'," agreed Gann.

"And upstairs were classrooms and storerooms," Blake continued, "still, there did look to be more rooms above those we started with so perhaps barracks and dormitories would be there. If anywhere."

"You wonder where they are?" rumbled Okku.

"I do, or if they exist," Blake replied. "This academy seems a little isolated for people to travel in each day but magic makes many things possible."

Gann chuckled and then, seeing the strange looks the others gave him, explained. "I was just wondering which would be less disturbing to find, a barrack full of Gnolls waiting to replace those we slew on guard on the walls. Or teenage humans lacking adequate supervision but not lacking in beds."

"I think the former would be more dangerous," smiled Blake slightly in return, "and, without wishing to boost your ego, I think seduction would not be as easy for a teenage boy as it was for a teenage Gann. However much they prayed to Tymorra for luck or Sharess for sensual fulfilment."

"And why do you think it would be the boy having to do the seducing? Hmm?" Neeshka asked, the twinkle in her eye and the angle of her smile making her look even more impish than normal. "I seem to recall a certain harbour-boy that took a lot of chasing and catching."

"Or even whether a boy, or a girl, would be involved at all," added Gann. "But I admit it more likely to be one of each, or perhaps at least one of each, in the tryst."

"We shall just have to see, my friends," Blake agreed, trying to end the discussion, "or hopefully not see. However much Gann's imagination makes him sound like the author of scenarios for an erotic pamphlet."

"And _how_ do you know about the contents of erotic pamphlets?" asked Neeshka as Blake started to head out of the room.

"I've always been interested in reading," Blake replied deadpan, making Neeshka giggle. He decided not to add that as a teenager reading both those accounts and the accounts of magic it sometimes felt that magic was the more likely he'd get the chance to practice.

Moving down the hall Blake paused again at the unopened door. Neeshka nodded to him and slipped forward with the keys she had taken and, to her disappointment, one clicked the lock open. Moving carefully despite the lack of noise within Blake was quite surprised at the size of the room and that it wrapped around the stairwell they had descended. There was another of the mirrors that littered the hallways and ahead of them Blake could see a dais and a pair of obelisks. Those and the patterns laid out on the floor in stone suggested magic to Blake even before he reached the corner and saw a floating orb midway along the wall separating this room from the corridor. Skirting the pattern on the floor Blake moved across to the orb to examine it. Blake peered at it and the obelisks and the two additional mirrors that were at this end of the room.

"Careful harbour-boy," Neeshka warned. "I don't see any traps but you know I deal more with wires and pressure plates than magic."

Blake nodded as he tried a few simple divinations. "The flow of magic suggests it is tied to that obelisk," he said, pausing and adding with a smile, "which would have been a fair assumption anyway even without the aid of Mystra. Does seem only the two spells attached to it. The one to make it float and one to trigger the obelisk magic."

"Which does what?" Gann asked reasonably.

"I have no idea," admitted Blake. "The obelisk does seem similar to those in the Mephit experiment so could be teleportation, but I doubt it."

After a few moments more in thought Blake shook his head and turned away. None of the others objected as he led the way back out of the room and the short way down the cross-hall into the main one. There Blake noticed more mirrors and paused to examine a crystal in a metal holder but as their purpose, if they had one, eluded him he continued on to another door off the main hall. Despite the lack of noise past that door he had a feeling that all was not as peaceful as it seemed. Neeshka saw Blake's uncertainty and, for once, misinterpreting moved forward and checked the door for traps.

"No traps, and not locked," Neeshka said with a reassuring smile.

"Thank you," replied Blake, trying to look grateful rather than surprised as his thoughts had not been on that problem.

Carefully Blake pushed the door open and they entered. There was a short hallway within the room that made it a little L shaped so despite Okku's grousing they took advantage of this to organise themselves. It remained quiet but as they reached the corner into the main part Blake blinked in surprise. Just out of sight from the doorway was a large human shaped mound of rocks and mud that straightened as it sensed them. Stone rumbled against stone and a few lumps of mud fell to the floor as the Earth Elemental turned slightly. Blake waved for Gann to move a little along the wall to outflank it as it took one plodding step that hammered the floorboards and caused the end of one to pop up as it flexed.

This Elemental was barely short enough to not scrape the ceiling and was quite intimidating in its bulk but rather than concern a smile came to Blake's face. Upstairs people had ignored the constant thumping of the Golem duels and had fortunately also ignored when that stopped. It was a relief that there was something here that was almost as noisy and would also have accustomed them to ignoring loud noises, such as knocking a halberd butt against a wall. Its presence also solved one mystery as he might have been uneasy because his curse had felt the animating spirit of this Earth Elemental. But with it being both taller and wider than the doorway that raised the question of how it was supposed to get in or out of this room.

Gann's expression showed he was not sure what his spear could do to rock and mud but that given a chance he'd try to find out. To Neeshka's annoyance Blake moved in front of her rather than leaving a gap between him and the wall for her to fill. This could have been an accident or because he had Okku crowding him towards the corner to his right. But Neeshka suspected it was more that he wanted to protect her. The Elemental took another step and Blake thrust forward to sweep his sword in a backhand blow at the Elemental's left knee. His blade struck sparks off the rocks either side as he didn't quite manage a clean line through the mud-lubricated joint.

Staggering slightly the Elemental swatted at Blake who jumped back a little to avoid this blow. As the Elemental's left arm passed harmlessly in front of Blake, and Neeshka congratulated herself on not getting too close on Blake's heels, Okku lunged. Taking his weight on his rear paws and twisting his body the bear-god slammed his left paw into the side of the smaller rocks that formed the Elemental's head. Even a creature of rock would be affected by such a blow but to make matters worse for the Elemental this also put more strain on its damaged knee as it added to the momentum of its own backhand swat. The joint gave way enough that though the rocks remained attached the Elemental fell forward and to the side to bounce off the wall and land on the bed there.

With the Elemental's weight the mattress did very little to cushion the impact and the wood of the bedstead splintered into kindling. Before it could do more than begin to attempt to rise from its sprawling position Okku had pounced and a second thud ran through the floorboards and up through the soles of Blake's boots. This and the impact against the wall made him wonder if his relief of moments ago had been premature. Even if these people were used to loud noises there were limits to what anyone would accept or expect so they might be pushing their luck.

Okku continued to dig at the back of the Earth Elemental as Gann moved in and started stabbing at the shoulder and elbow of its right arm. Though the elemental outmassed them all, even Okku, compared with the one in the Skein it was tiny. Blake's sword twitched as he tried to decide where he could attack. Its left arm was trapped under its body and against the wall and Gann and Okku seemed to need little help. There was a slight whisper of fine chain links and Neeshka slipped out from behind Blake and around him and Gann to start stabbing the Elemental in the hips and knees.

With one arm trapped and its other arm and both legs being stabbed the Elemental was unable to dislodge Okku. A few more thumps ran through the floorboards as it briefly raised itself only to fall under the bear-god's weight and an attack on the limb it was pushing up with. Blake had still not found an angle to join in this dismembering before the Elemental slumped and something about it changed to make it appear nothing more than a pile of rocks and mud. It had no lungs to make its chest rise and fall with breath and no eyes to close or stare unblinking so Blake was not sure that without the reaction of his curse he would have been so certain there was no longer an animating spirit within it. Okku dug a few moments longer and then stepped down from the remains.

"We had best check the next door room," Blake commented, "and see if there is anyone in there who we have annoyed with the noise."

"I heard only the banging on the floor," smiled Gann, "rather than any banging on the wall."

"So the room could be empty, or this room could belong to a Red Wizard of power and short temper."

"Which would explain the corpse over there," said Gann, pointing towards the corner of the room, "if that is not the owner."

"Some places complaining about noisy neighbours can be a fast way to getting a knife in the guts," Neeshka agreed.

"Then I am glad I have stayed away from the 'civilised lands' where people are so uncivil," replied Gann, with a slight bow of the head to Neeshka.

Moving back out into the hall and around to the next door Neeshka again checked for traps and briefly listened. With a smile to Blake she eased the door open and they entered the room. This mirrored the other in shape though the furniture was different and, more importantly, there was no elemental waiting to notice them. It seemed quite a cosy room and Blake started browsing the bookcase to their right for any clues or any interesting books. He turned from this perusal as he heard Neeshka give a low whistle.

"Found something," Neeshka said, straightening from beside an opened chest and holding up a soul housing. As Blake crossed the room to join her she suddenly glanced to her left. "Make that two somethings."

Blake took the soul housing, with only a brief caress of fingertips against Neeshka's hand, and frowned at it as she moved away from him. Even the endearing way her tail was twitching as she examined the wall could not distract him from his displeasure that someone's soul was in a chest rather than at least being given enough respect and care for that soul housing to be protected in the depository. When Neeshka turned and grinned at him though he found it impossible to remain frowning.

"You see it?" Neeshka asked, gesturing.

"See…?" Blake began before cutting himself off. "Scrapes?" He paused a moment to look and think some more. "Does that bookcase slide?"

"Bravo harbour-boy! Top marks."

"So what does he win for passing this test?" Gann asked. "Or would revealing that embarrass him?"

"Careful my friend," said Blake in mock warning, "or do you want me to share the details of that dream-Gann?"

"Mercy!" Gann smiled. "Anything but that. Well, not anything… but many things."

Stowing the soul housing carefully in a magic pouch Blake joined Neeshka and set his shoulder against the bookcase. An experimental push showed there was no catch to be released and that this had been recently moved or at least well maintained. A slight noise like rubbing bare hands together for warmth came from the other edge of the bookcase as it further scraped the wall in revealing a door. Neeshka efficiently checked this for traps and then, with a small sigh, reached for keys rather than lockpicks. She soon found the right one and the door swung open to reveal an unexpected and unpleasant sight.

That the room beyond was lit in red was sinister enough that with all the death they had already seen the corpses of what appeared to be three female students and the puddles of blood hardly added to this impression. What did though was the torture equipment. Along each side of the room were pillars with neck collars attached to chains too short to allow the imprisoned person to sit on the floor. Three racks with ankle-stocks to hold and windlasses to stretch were arranged in a U towards the centre of the room and as Blake moved further in he saw two chairs at the open end of this. These looked more innocent until you noticed the metal half-loop fixed to their backs.

Those half-loops would be uncomfortable enough but level with them were large flat-ended screws through the chair backs. These could be turned with their crossbars to press against the back of the person's neck to force their windpipes against the half-loop and, unlike a person, these chairs could maintain that degree of strangulation for as long as the torturer wished. Blake noticed to his left there was an altar against this wall as well as against the opposite one. These were decorated in skulls and had manacles and a central trough to carry blood off the altar to pour into the bowl below.

As a final touch the pillars to the left of the door had an extra feature compared with those nearly straight ahead. Three pikes had been fixed into the floor and on each was a battered head. Blake moved across past the racks and strangling chairs to examine these more closely. He nodded as he decided that despite his sense of chivalry and that these were men rather than young girls he felt rather sorrier for them than for the students. One had a full head of hair, one at least some hair, and the one in the middle that was completely bald had no tattoos so these were not Red Wizards. That did not mean they were necessarily innocents but Blake did feel it made it at least possible.

Looking back towards the doorway Blake saw that Neeshka's customary happiness had deserted her and that Gann was looking even queasier than when his mother had described how she had been forced to devour his father piece by piece. Okku though had stuck his head in, taken a quick glance, and having confirmed there was nothing to fight had withdrawn and gone back to waiting for the mortals. Blake muttered a quick prayer to Lilira, _Our Lady of Joy_, to soon bless Neeshka again and then attempted to make his own contribution.

"There is a chest there," Blake said, hoping the prospect of loot would make his beloved happier.

With an uncharacteristic silence and a rather wan smile that made Blake's heart ache Neeshka nodded and crossed to that chest. Watching her he felt a little guilty as he realised he cared more that she had been made sad than he cared that these people had been made dead. Perhaps it showed the depth of his love for her or perhaps it was that however slowly and painfully these people had died feeling sorry for them would not help them now. Either way he felt like he should still care more rather than being so much less affected than Neeshka.

A sudden thought occurred to Blake. In trying to unravel this mess they had been reminded often of the existence of Gods of the Dead and an afterlife. That would help with feeling death was just a transition between existences. But they were reminded of those things because Akachi had been a priest of Myrkul, so maybe some of that faith was seeping through to make him feel even more that way?

"You appear to be thinking deep thoughts," Gann commented quietly, "rather than simply, as is your more usual habit, indulging in the sight of your lively and lovely sweetheart at work."

"She makes this room, and this academy, feel less terrible, my friend," Blake replied, "but seeing this does give me very mixed feelings. It shows the sort of things that Red Wizards… or I suppose anyone twisted enough are capable of. At least the Red Wizard we got the keys from had a more evil aura than most and that he had to hide this room does show even they have some standards."

"Perhaps so, but it is rather an elaborate room," countered Gann, "so he could not have expected it to be discovered until it had been much used. Which shows how little concern he had that those students would be missed or their disappearance investigated."

"True," said Blake simply. "And whatever extra crimes he committed against the body and mind in this room the entire Academy is devoted to greater crimes against the soul. But twisted bodies and torture equipment seems less abstract."

"On that we can agree," Gann nodded.

Neeshka returned and to their relief they could leave the depressing room. Blake headed across the hall past the tables and chairs in it and the crystal and to the door opposite the room with the Earth Elemental. As they neared it Okku slowed and sniffed and looked even more ill of temper than normal.

"More trouble?" Blake asked.

"That depends on whether you consider Infernals to be troublesome," rumbled Okku.

"They can be bound and used for good," Blake replied, "and Neeshka shows that blood does not always tell, but I prefer to avoid them. If possible."

"Then, little-one, you would prefer to avoid that room ahead," said Okku, tilting his head to look up with one eye, "but I expect you would feel that not possible."

Blake hesitated and nodded. "Aye, if there are creatures of that sort here then learning why might be worth the time."

"Especially since, from what we have seen," Gann commented, "if they are bound then I doubt it would be for good."

"And even if it was," said Blake sourly, "I have seen that trying to use their power for good results in many evils along the way."

Very reluctantly Blake opened the door and entered the room. There was a serious temptation to just set the academy on fire now rather than continue to search for clues but they needed as much information as possible. In any case they'd want to set fires in as many rooms as possible, so eventually they'd have to visit every room they could. Therefore it might as well be now and while they were unencumbered by incendiary supplies. As Okku had warned they found summoning circles within the room and within those were a pair of Pit Fiends. They seemed securely held but Blake mistrusted the appearance and felt himself tensing.

"Look at this one, Thael-ka," sniffed one Pit Fiend, peering down from its superior height at Blake. "Something familiar about him, wouldn't you agree?"

"As usual, Oronock, you are mistaken," Thael-ka replied disdainfully, sparing Blake a glance. "We have never seen this mortal before."

"Not the sight, my slow-witted associate," responded Oronock, sneering at Thael-ka as well as a Pit Fiend face could. "The smell."

"You said 'look', my developmentally stunted colleague," said Thael-ka with equal asperity and an equal sneer, "and so I did. But you make a point. Have we crossed paths before, mortal?"

"I did cross paths with a Pit Fiend named Koraboros," Blake said, now they had decided to talk to him rather than about him, "but he is the only one of your ilk I have met outside of Dreamscapes."

"Koraboros?" asked Thael-ka in surprise before continuing with more enthusiasm. "Oh _yes_. In fact we attended his demotion ceremony quite recently, before we were… called here. A _delicious_ affair, by all accounts." His face distorted into a malicious smile as he enjoyed the memories. "There's _nothing_ quite so satisfying as watching an accomplished Devil reduced to a bubbling oozing mass and writhing in pain for several hours."

"I can think of a few things harbour-boy," Neeshka whispered. "At least you seemed satisfied with them."

Blake nodded to her as Oronock mused to himself. "I heard word that a number of serious misjudgements on his part reached the ears of Baalzebul himself," the Pit Fiend commented. "Well… whatever a slug has for ears." Oronock looked down at Blake who calmly looked back despite how much he preferred the sight of Neeshka. "But surely you have not come here to catch up with old friends. How might we be of service mortal?"

"That would depend why you were… called here," Blake replied. "What do you do here?"

"We are facilitators of transactions," said Oronock, speaking in general terms, "overseers of a small but vital subsection of a vast economy that happens to be centred here at this establishment."

"What my well-meaning but sub-optimally competent business partner means to say," Thael-ka added, taking the chance for another insult, "is that we are in the habit of stimulating localised bartering on the premises."

"You'll forgive my mentally wanting accomplice for his over-fondness of vague jargon," sneered Oronock, ignoring how much he was guilty of the same. "It is natural habit when one spends his aeons negotiating and drafting bargains. Put simply, we are here to trade."

For a moment Blake was unsure what made this Academy worthy of the attention of two Pit Fiends. Then he thanked Oghma as _The Lord of Knowledge_ granted him inspiration and he remembered what they had found in the chest across the hall. "You trade for souls, the ones extracted here by the Red Wizards?"

"How astute," said Thael-ka with uncomplimentary surprise. "Yes, typically souls filter down to our realm on their own upon death. But this institution has tapped into some of our own methods. It's created stragglers. We'd prefer to simply take them, of course…"

"Of course."

"But certain… prior agreements force us to seek them in trade," Thael-ka continued. "What transpires here is a mutually beneficial exchange of resources. The Red Wizards receive funding for their little school, and in return we receive a stipend of souls from their stockpile."

"And was part of that stipend a soul you would have received normally?" Blake asked. Feeling the need to justify himself despite his reluctance to provide more information than he had to he added after a moment, "I have an insipid poem that suggests I need to locate a damned soul."

"Mm. Yes, we thought you might be interested in trading _for_ a soul rather than _with_ a soul," Thael-ka smiled. "You… have that look about you."

"Don't play coy, Thael-ka…it's too easily confused with your penchant for cretinism," said Oronock derisively, drawing a slight glare from his colleague. "We can offer you something of that description, mortal. This specimen is in a rare transitional stage. Its host is dead, but it has not reached Avernus to begin its sentence."

"So that is what you have," Blake replied, "so what do you want in return?"

"Ah, clearly you've worked with Devils before. Already moving into the negotiation," said Thael-ka, with a somewhat speaking look at Neeshka. "We require a comparable soul in trade. The soul you want is rare so we'd like the same. For me, I'd like a soul from a person who lived in the filthiest, the most deplorable and wretched conditions, yet who forsook all thoughts of himself for love of another. Agreed Oronock?"

"You've missed the mark completely, Thael-ka," Oronock said, disagreeing, "and once again it falls to me to save our reputation. My ideal soul would be of one who was brought up in prosperity yet sunk to the absolute depths of depravity. The sickest most self-centred and delusional individual possible."

"So a soul for him and a soul for you?"

"No, no! Of course not," mock-protested Thael-ka. "That would _hardly_ be fair. We want one soul. One soul that has _all_ those qualities."

"You want a soul that is rich _and_ poor," Blake frowned, "selfless _and_ self-centred?"

"Yes, I believe you've hit upon it exactly," smiled Oronock insincerely before adding, equally insincerely, "good luck."

"Aye…" Blake grumbled.

They moved back out into the hallway and away from the two Pit Fiends and their amusement, as well as their smell of the lower planes. Blake looked towards the next door but hesitated before moving towards it. The list of requirements seemed quite impossible and his taste for further exploration here had already dimmed.

"Dealing with Devils is not to my taste, little one," Okku rumbled.

"_Nothing_ here is to our taste," sighed Blake, "and I do not think a selfless soul would be condemned to their care in the normal course of events."

"So?" Gann asked, his tone making it clear he meant 'so, what shall we do?' rather than 'so what?'

Blake thought a moment. "So, we shall keep our eyes and noses open for some other way to induce these Pit Fiends to give us what we need, or some other way to get the damned soul we need for that damned door."

"Noses?" Neeshka smiled. "You _have_ been hanging around Okku too long."

"Or just long enough," murmured Okku.

"We still have not addressed the other problem of their demands," Gann pointed out. "As well as condemning a selfless soul to Devils there is also the problem of the traits they want. People may contain many contradictions but not to _that_ extent."

"I am loath to say this but…" Blake hesitated, "we may have to talk to that Golem. If we can find two souls that match the two Devils requirements then the Golem may be able to join them into the one we need…" A slight smile came back to Blake's face. "And that _might_ also solve the first problem as well. For now though let us finish searching this level and see if we can avoid that as a plan."

The room next to the Pit Fiends was empty though when Neeshka found a soul housing in a vase the frown returned to Blake's face. Storing one in a chest had felt too insecure but to put it in a vase? The torture room and that they regularly dealt with Infernals had shown the depths the Red Wizards would sink to but that they were so casual with something so precious as a soul showed their contempt for others. At least it eased his qualms a fraction as it made it seem fairer to treat their desire to not be killed with equal contempt.

Moving down the hall they saw a stairwell leading up on their left. Blake paused and looked around to judge distances and frowned. "Strange, I am sure we are still below the floor we already explored but there was no way into these stairs on that level."

"Looks like a very winding staircase," commented Neeshka, moving across and opening the door so she could peer upwards, "almost as bad as the ones to the tower."

"Aye, best check this floor first," Blake decided.

The main hall ended in a cross hall ahead so while Neeshka checked the bookcases to either side Blake took a moment to think. Then with a shrug and a clank he opened the door directly ahead of them. There seemed nothing to be lost by following Okku's example of charging forward. As expected this was another set of Instructor's Quarters and as hoped there was nothing hostile within it. Neeshka slipped in through the door and then nodded to the bed and grinned at Blake.

"Shame we are having to move through here fast harbour-boy," Neeshka winked, "all these private rooms with comfortable looking furniture."

"Ah, true enough," sighed Blake, "though it would make me in no fit state to fight, even if you meant to only use one room, or one piece of furniture within that room, rather than trying more than one out for the blessings of Sharess."

"Does that give you fresh reason to return to your Crossroad Keep?" Gann asked. "Or have you already… blessed… every room within it with such deeds?"

"Hah! Nowhere near," scoffed Neeshka. "Not yet even managed to ambush him outside his Quarters there."

"It was rather crowded," Blake commented, moving to check a bookcase for books and scrolls, "a lot of Greycloaks moving around preparing the Keep for the attack by the army of undead…" He stopped and ran the fingertips of one gauntlet over the wall beside the bookcase. "Another scrape here, though I am a little loath to see what is concealed behind this bookcase."

"A feeling I think we all share," Gann agreed, "but I think we also all share the feeling we need to check."

"Aye," replied Blake, giving a push to one side of the bookcase and sliding it across. This revealed another door that Neeshka checked for traps and unlocked. To their relief the room past this door looked normal. There were a few sets of stocks with comfortable chairs and sofas for people to sit and look at whoever was imprisoned but there were no corpses and no sinister lighting or altars.

Moving along the L-shaped room Gann nodded and gestured to the furnishings. "This is more what expected of the Red Wizards. Facilities to humiliate someone and taunt them while remaining comfortable yourself. Rather cruel but also rather petty."

"I think by their standards we are too kind hearted, my friend," smiled Blake, "that we think humiliation rather than torture and death more apt a punishment for the transgressions of students."

Having turned the corner and found more stocks and seating they also found the door ahead was not locked but was stuck. It opened a fraction but there seemed something in the way of it opening any more. Okku had been looking disinterested in the conversations and disappointed in the lack of enemies to fight but seeing Blake's trouble he moved forward a little.

"I could easily smash that, and whatever obstructs it, aside little-one," Okku rumbled.

"No doubt, but we don't know what that whatever is."

As Okku frowned over trying to understand why that would matter Neeshka spoke. "If my sense of location is correct…"

"Which I am sure it is," Blake smiled.

"Then we would probably be coming out into the room past the door that was to our right," finished Neeshka, returning the smile.

"Have the advantage of surprise coming into a room this way, which is often useful for the Red Knight's plans…" Blake began to say, meaning to continue by saying _'but I think I would rather go back through that cross hall.'_

Before Blake could complete his sentence though Okku had taken one quick bound to build up speed and then leapt at the door. The top of a head of solid spirit-flesh met wood and the latter lost as it splintered aside as if struck by a catapult ball. Okku slowed only slightly as he passed through the door and the bookcase that had been against it. Books sprayed across the room and the top of the bookcase sagged down from the rail it slid on as suddenly there was nothing below to support it.

There had been no cries of surprise or fear as Okku made his dramatic entrance so Blake took a moment to close his eyes and take a deep calming breath. Then he stepped and pushed his way through the wreckage to join the bear-god in what had proved to be another normal room. Blake picked a few books up to check their contents and because it made him twitchy to see them scatted and open with their pages bent under them. Having had less use for book learning and thus caring less Neeshka had moved diagonally across the room and to another door.

Neeshka turned as she finished checking that door for traps and unlocking it. "They do like their bookcases for concealing doors," she commented, adding with a wink, "though Okku is a little less subtle than you at un-concealing them harbour-boy."

"That he is," Blake replied, looking around again at the wreckage and ignoring Okku's rumbles of displeasure at the possible criticism of him taking the only course worthy of a god-of-bears.

Entering this next room they were pleased to see no torture equipment or corpses though there were a couple more mirrors. Blake examined these and then the dais with a pattern around it. This looked similar or identical to the one they had found in the other room but there were no obelisks and no floating orb. That there was a connection seemed obvious and a vague suspicion of how they were connected began to tickle at the back of Blake's mind. Something about a signalling method or something Neeshka had done or did.

They backtracked into the room with the wrecked bookcase and into the cross hall. As they approached the other end Okku paused and sniffed. "I smell death little-one, but no blood or disease. Just a sense of… despair."

"There are magics that slay directly," Blake replied, looking concerned, "though Gann wards us against most spells of that type."

"I do," confirmed Gann, "and that blessing of the spirits still lingers about us. As I think does your own protections?"

"They do," Blake nodded. "So Tymorra's luck be with us."

Pushing the door open they were greeted by the smell of people left to lie in their own excrement and of mattresses inadequately cleaned and aired before their next occupant added their own contribution. The room was nearly silent with a Red Wizard lying on a bed ahead of them, his breathing so shallow they had to approach quite closely before they could be sure they could see his chest rising and falling. His eyes were rolled slightly up and he was trembling and seemed unaware of them.

"He does not look well," Neeshka said with understatement, adding after a pause, "almost not worth slitting his throat…"

Her voice seemed to draw the man's attention back from whatever haze it had been lost in. He blinked and as some awareness returned it became more clear he was more a boy than a man. His lips moved as if he was trying to speak but even in the quiet of this room the whisper was so faint as to be lost. Blake leaned in closer to listen while Neeshka tensed slightly in case this was a trick to bring her harbour-boy's face within striking range.

"You…" breathed the Red Wizard boy, making an effort and raising his voice a little, "you are the one she described to me." Blake glanced to Neeshka who returned the look of concern over if that was good or ill. "I carry something you will be needing," continued the boy. "Nefris asked me to keep something safe for you. She wanted to be sure it was _you_ who got it, not Araman. _That_ was her greatest fear. _This_… was all I could do to reassure her. An apprentice's greatest honour."

Blake looked at the nearly helpless Red Wizard and wondered how he could keep anything safe. "Whatever you have must be of great importance."

"The room we're in… it's a ward for the soulless," replied the boy, one arm twitching as he tried and failed to gesture around them. "Nearly all our most important work at this school requires human subjects… and sacrifices. Subjects who lose their souls are brought here to die."

"You could not grant them a easier swifter end?" Gann asked. "They have to be left to linger?"

The Red Wizard boy looked at Gann with utter incomprehension. It was not much trouble to leave the bodies here and it meant you had a few days to change your mind before the subject died. Why would you deprive yourself of that convenience? "I endured such an experiment to have my soul transplanted for a surrogate," continued the Red Wizard, giving up on the effort to understand. "It is all that keeps me from death and the very thing Nefris sought to keep from Araman."

"A surrogate soul?" asked Blake. "That sounds like one of those I need whether it's 'imagined' or 'imitated'. How may I claim this soul?"

"I can say no more," replied the boy, his eyes darting around and his head turning slightly on the thin pillow as he checked. "Nefris meant for you to have it, but you are here and her daughter is not."

Blake thought a moment and then decided on an argument. "If her greatest fear was that Araman would get it rather than me, then does _anything_ else matter? In the state you're in you cannot defend yourself or it if he comes and tries to take it from you."

"Hmm… it's true that would be her biggest concern." mused the young Red Wizard as he tried to decide if he dared ask where Nefris' daughter Safiya was. Deciding that could be risky he sighed and continued. "Very well. The surrogate can be… displaced. My original soul has a natural affinity for my body, it would re-enter on its own and the surrogate could be extracted."

"Go on," Blake said encouragingly when the youth paused.

"For my own safety Nefris did not tell me where she had placed my soul but she was fond of hiding things in plain sight. I expect she would have hidden it amongst the others in the depository. You would just need to identify it with the soul viewer."

"I will return with your soul then," Blake replied simply, before moving a little away to talk more privately.

"Killing him would also displace the fake soul he has…" suggested Neeshka with her sense of practicality.

"Likely enough," Blake agreed, adding a little ruthlessly, "but we can always decide to kill him _after_ we've done what he said. Make sure we get the surrogate soul first."

Neeshka nodded to this but Gann cleared his throat where he was peering around a column. When they looked at him he gestured slightly. "There is another body here, and one that is not in the robes of the Red Wizards."

"Hells," muttered Blake as he took the half step to look where Gann had pointed.

"So _that's_ what happened to him," Neeshka commented, joining her harbour-boy.

"You know this man?" blinked Gann in surprise.

"His name is Ammon Jerro," Blake replied. "He is a warlock, the one I mentioned in the Wizards dream as being likely dead or imprisoned."

"The one that collected Devils and Demons?" asked Gann, his tone making it more a statement than a question. "And is who you meant by having seen Infernal servants and good intentions leading to evil?"

"The same. It was in his hands the Sword of Gith shattered. Neeshka mentioned he had chased after me, so I suppose we had maybe better heal him."

Gann raised his eyebrows at the number of qualifiers. "You sound remarkably… unenthusiastic."

"Ammon Jerro has done _much_ to earn my hatred," Blake growled, looking towards Gann who noted the anger in Blake's eyes as he continued. "He killed many innocents, killed a member of the Neverwinter Nine, killed his own _Granddaughter_, destroyed my home village and slaughtered its inhabitants … _all_ in pursuit of his war against the King of Shadows."

"That would explain the lack of enthusiasm," said Gann with understatement. "It is a wonder you are willing to aid him at all, or even that you were ever allied."

"It was not by choice," Blake replied more calmly, looking back towards Ammon Jerro. "To fight the King of Shadows we needed all five parts of the Ritual of Purification and Ammon Jerro reached one of the statues that bestowed the blessings before we did. I might have… probably would have… killed him and hoped that would allow the ritual at that statue to be performed again but a servant of the King of Shadows destroyed that statue."

"I _still_ wanted to wrap him in chains and throw him off the docks," hissed Neeshka, her tail lashing in remembered hate.

"It was tempting. He'd only just killed Shandra," Blake sighed. "It was not long since I had passed through the Illefarn Song Portal and seen the destruction of West Harbour and the corpses of the people. Vengeance would have felt right then. But at Shandra's Farm he was remorseful of his actions, and he is here because he tried to help me, so despite my feelings I will not leave him here to rot."

"I do not recognise his affliction," mused Gann, "but the Red Wizard over there did say this was a ward for the soulless."

"And that Nefris liked hiding things in plain sight," Blake agreed with a nod. "Seems we are searching for more souls than we thought. First those for the door and then those to satisfy the Pit Fiends and now these for that Red Wizard and Ammon Jerro. While we are there we can check the soul depository again for a housing black enough to contain Ammon Jerro's soul. Before that we should speak to that Golem though and see if an idea I had was valid."

Leaving the two insensate men to their fate Blake and the others retreated from the Ward of the Soulless and back down the cross hall. As they reached the corner into the main hall Blake paused and looked around.

"You seem uncertain of something?" Gann pressed.

"We went up a ramp and there are windows so this floor is at ground level," nodded Blake, "it is not a cellar dug into the soil."

"True enough," Gann agreed, "though if you are certain of that?"

"Then what am I pondering?" asked Blake. At Gann's nod he continued. "As I said on the floor above this looked larger from outside. But again the walls seem solid and that there is nothing else."

"Perhaps those stairs?" Gann suggested with a gesture. "They might lead to your theoretical barracks and dormitories and the floor above the floor above have stairs back down to the level of the ramp?"

Blake nodded and moved the short way to those stairs to begin making his way up them. Neeshka happily followed at once, wishing not for the first time that Blake didn't have a cloak in the way and didn't wear as much armour over his rear. Gann shrugged and followed, making a similar wish about Neeshka's cloak and armour but in reverse. Had her cloak been on her shoulders or her chainmail links not so fine and well tailored to her form it would be easier to avoid having his eye caught by the sight and easier to avoid her, or Blake, objecting if they thought he had looked for too long.

Okku grumbled at the idea of more stairs but eventually followed to fill the stairwell with a constant rumbling as if this stairwell was the chimney leading down to some Gnomish engine working away. The bear-god did not appreciate stairs made for the legs of mortals of such a different shape to him. He might not be subject to the muscle aches of flesh that climbing something so poorly fitted to his limbs could have brought but he was still annoyed by it.

"I think we are up one floor," Blake commented after a while. They continued to climb for a while longer and Blake stopped and glanced back down the stairwell. "And I think this should be another floor climbed, but still no doors."

"If we must climb these stairs, little-one," rumbled Okku, "then let us _climb_. An exit will appear eventually, whether you find a door or I smash though a wall to free us."

"It may come to that, my friend," Blake agreed, "though these stairs are very twisted and it is hard to know which wall you should smash. Or smash first at least."

They continued to climb and continued to have no luck with any exits and to be subjected to Okku's constant rumbling. This noise destroyed most hopes of stealth and was annoying in itself so it was a relief to more than the bear-god when the stairs ended. Neeshka listened to the door at the top of them and checked for traps and locks before gesturing her harbour-boy forward. Blake looked around as he entered the room and noted the already ransacked appearance.

"Is this… the headmistress' tower room?" Blake asked in bafflement.

"Yes," replied Neeshka, joining him. "Why? What's the problem harbour-boy?"

"No real problem," Blake said, moving to look out a window, "but I thought those other stairs led up here."

"Maybe they do," smiled Neeshka, pointing at another doorway and that it had stairs leading down.

Blake nodded slowly. "Wherever those lead we had better check, though if you are right that shows how twisty those staircases are."

"Indeed," Gann agreed, "this room is large but not that large that I would expect stairs from almost opposite ends of the floors below to meet here."

Blake crossed to a door that seemed to have withstood a lot of magic without being destroyed or even much damaged. He nodded as the inscription on it confirmed this was the one they also wanted to open and pulling out the splintered soul from his belt-pouch he compared it with the socket in the door. They seemed to match for size and shape so they were on the right trail. Which Blake felt a mixed blessing as in some ways he'd rather have been wrong than having to seek more souls and deal with Pit Fiends.

"Let me check, little-one," Okku murmured, startling Blake a little as he'd been deep enough in thought to not notice the bear-god move to just behind him.

Realising what Okku intended to check Blake nodded and moved back and away. Great spirit-muscles flexed under the colourful spirit-fur and Okku slammed his paw into the door, huge razor sharp claws driven by his immense strength raking across its surface, and doing nothing. Okku growled and struck with his other paw, putting more of his weight into it and thrusting forward with his powerful hindquarters to add even more power to the blow. A vase fell off a nearby table but there was only, perhaps, the faintest of scratches left on the door.

"Hrrrrr," Okku growled, glaring at the lack of results from his blows, "so souls it is. Curse the Red Wizards."

There were an impressive number of bookshelves in this room and most had remained untouched so Neeshka did not take offence when her harbour-boy began checking them for anything she had missed. She had been searching fast while hoping to remain undiscovered and although she doubted she had left any gold or valuables there was the chance Blake would find something interesting for his magic. More than a few books went into his bags and Blake turned and smiled to his watching sweetheart.

"I don't see anything of immediate use," admitted Blake, "but Aldanon will be pleased at the extended library."

"Careful harbour-boy," Neeshka grinned, "he was already becoming a fixture at Crossroad Keep. Do you want him to never return to his own manse?"

"I'd not mind, I rather liked him. Besides, with how long we've been gone, we might end up moving in with him rather than still having the Keep."

After a quick final check of the shelves and cabinets they began making their way down the other set of stairs. These were no more suited to Okku's gait than the others and he found he had to walk down slightly crab-wise to avoid the danger of tumbling down and over the mortals. He would have taken no harm from that but it would be undignified and a less than splendid way to end their efforts should the little-one be killed or seriously injured by this.

There were again no other exits from this winding set of stairs and landings. Blake did begin to wonder if for some strange reason the doors were hidden but he had faith in his beloved's eyes being sharp enough to spot those or the patterns of wear on the floor that would show someone had walked through that wall. This was quite strange and to Blake's mild surprise these did lead down to the doorway in the north-west corner of the classroom level.

Hearing their footsteps the Golem turned and shuffled slightly to one side as it did. "Oh. H- hello there," it greeted them, managing despite its expressionless face to seem even more nervous. "Again."

"I need a soul with conflicting traits," Blake said flatly. "Could you join two together?"

"I… suppose I could," replied the Golem thoughtfully before adding. "Not really. Well… it depends on what you will accept."

"Explain."

"How to explain though," said the Golem, glancing at Okku whose temper had still not recovered from the stairs and the door. "Some of my work is on merging souls and theoretically I could do what you ask, take two souls with different traits and forge them together as one. But the merge never takes, I can fuse pieces of soul together but the separate parts of the soul remain isolated."

"And if the souls were totally different," Blake asked, "would that worsen this isolation?"

"Even if they were similar it would almost certainly fail to fully incorporate," the Golem replied, before hurriedly adding in an appeasing tone, "but if you bring me two souls, each with half the qualities you require I will try to fuse them for as long as it would last."

"Very well…" accepted Blake, commenting, "and the imperfection of the fusing may be an advantage in this case."

"I don't see how…" the Golem said before deciding not to ask, "but y- you will need a pass." Seeing they looked a little blank at this the Golem explained. "If you get the souls from the depository you will need a pass to check out more than one. Take this with you."

Blake took the pass, not noticing that as he did the Golem used its shift in position to nudge a sack further under the counter. They moved the short distance down the hall to the Soul Depository and started going through the shelves. Each soul housing in turn was placed in the viewer and with a faint swirl of colour the, literally, disembodied voices were heard speaking a fragment of their memories. This fragment remained the same each time they were viewed but it was still apparent what the personalities were of these souls and which were most likely to fit the different needs.

"So," Blake said, looking at the soul housings on the table. "Those we found downstairs rather than safely in this depository seem to be Red Wizards?" Gann nodded. "This soul seems pathetic enough, eager enough for approval, to be the Red Wizard downstairs?"

"Was a little whipped puppy like," Neeshka agreed.

"Hmm," grumbled Blake, not appreciating the image. "This one seems to have died wallowing in depravity, and this to be the selfless one? None of them are Ammon Jerro though. No obsessed ranting about the King of Shadows."

"You really do make him sound so pleasant," Gann smiled.

"Aye, almost as pleasant as this soul," agreed Blake, pointing at the housing Neeshka had found in the chest. "Makes me feel a little better that she was not such an innocent. That she died because she wanted to manipulate whoever had given her the keys, probably that teacher, and because of her own plotting and greed."

"Hey! Nothing wrong with greed harbour-boy," Neeshka protested, a little self-consciously, "and even if there was there's more wrong with being tortured to death and having your soul ripped out."

"I did say only a little better," replied Blake, "her fate was far in excess of what Tyr would consider justice."

"Little-one," Okku rumbled suddenly, "my reluctance to hand this selfless soul over to Devils has only increased. There must be another way."

"Unlike the Golem," added Gann, "I _think_ I see what advantage the imperfection of the fusing might bring, or what you are hoping, but I agree with old father bear that we should find an alternative."

"I doubt there is one," sighed Blake, "but we may have to find it, depending on this soul's reply."

"Reply?" Neeshka asked, puzzled as it hadn't seemed they could talk to them.

"Gann," said Blake, turning to him, "you have opened my Dreamer's Eye. Do you think working together we can enhance the function of this soul viewer? Allow us to communicate with the soul rather than simply listen to it repeating the same experiences?"

"Perhaps," Gann replied, after several moments thought. "As… loath… as I am to say it your curse does give you a link to spirits and souls that could be useful here. We will not know though until we try."

Blake placed the selfless soul back in the viewer and the faint swirl of colour appeared. He and Gann knelt and closed their eyes and concentrated, reaching out to try to sense any feeling of connection between them and what was within the housing. Gradually the swirling colours thickened and became more solid and swirled more slowly and showed the silently watching Okku and Neeshka that something was happening. The slight murmur of repeated words spluttered to a halt to be replaced by silence before there was the noise of an immaterial throat being cleared.

"Wha… what?" a voice asked. "Where, _what_ am I. Oh gods, I can't feel my feet, I can't feel _anything_…"

"You are a disembodied soul in a sphere in a Red Wizard Academy," Blake replied, raising his head and opening his eyes.

Gann winced as he also opened his eyes. "A less direct answer might have been easier for him to accept, ease him into it a little…"

"Red Wizard Academy?" said the voice, the colour swirl pulsing and shifting in hue. "I knew I would be punished if I was discovered, but never imagined this… how could I imagine this? How could I imagine such nothingness?" A very faint element of bravado entered the voice's tone. "What do you want Red Wizard? Why are you speaking with me?"

"We are not Red Wizards, feel the truth of my words through the link we are creating. We are _enemies_ of the Red Wizards."

"But you still want something," replied the voice, "I can feel _that_ truth as well."

"We are seeking to end a centuries old curse upon the land," Blake agreed. "But to do that we may have to deal with Devils as well as continue to kill Red Wizards."

"Devils? But they only want…" the voice began, breaking off with sudden realisation. "Oh Gods! _No_! Feeling nothing might be torment, but it would be a Heaven compared with the Hells."

"Yes," Blake admitted.

"Then why are you speaking to me? I can do nothing to stop you, why are you telling me what you intend?" demanded the voice. "Are you finding some amusement in warning me that you are going to condemn me to eternal torment worse even than this sphere?"

"No, it is because it might not be eternal torment," Blake replied, not taking offence at the accusation. "The Devils want a soul with hugely conflicting traits, which would require us to fuse your soul with that of another."

"That… sounds even worse. To have my being shaped like clay into something else."

"Ah, but the Devils may have outwitted themselves," Blake said in return. "A soul fused together like that from such opposing originals would be very unstable. I will not lie, I _cannot_ lie in this link, there is a chance the composite soul might stabilise and the torment be eternal. But there is a better chance it would fracture apart again and you would either die into oblivion or your soul would escape to the reward you deserve. Either way your torment would be over."

"So… you want me to be fused into some monster?" the voice asked incredulously. "To gamble that I am not tortured by Devils for eternity as a result? With one alternative to torment being oblivion."

"That is what I ask as there seems no alternative to making the deal with the Devils, but I do _ask_ rather than demand, and the choice is yours."

"I just want this to end. I can feel that you would end me if I asked, but I can also feel how important this is," the voice said. For long moments there was silence and the continued existence of the link was only shown by the more solid colours continuing to swirl. "Oh, Gods protect me… go ahead. What is one more good deed to be punished for in my life?"

"Thank you," Blake said sincerely. "May Tymorra bless us with luck or Ilmater reward you for your suffering and willingness to risk martyrdom."

There was no reply so gradually they withdrew from the link and the colours thinned above the soul viewer. Slowly the murmur of the repeated statements returned until Blake stood and plucked the soul housing from the viewer to end this. Blake looked down at this housing in his hand and shook his head in doubt. "Even with his permission and the hope it won't be eternal I really don't like this."

"Believe me harbour-boy, I had a lot of lore on Devils and Demons drummed into me by the priests…" winked Neeshka, touching the tip of one horn with a slender finger, "though I can't think why…"

"No reason comes to my mind," Gann smiled.

"And those Pit Fiends wouldn't accept anything but what they asked for," continued Neeshka, "and would not be able to be tricked or intimidated."

"Agreed," Blake nodded sadly.

Having shown the pass to the Golem Caretaker so it would not object to them taking two souls they returned up the corridor to the workshop where the Clay Golem was waiting. It gave them an expectant look so Blake held out the housings. "Here are the souls to fuse."

"Place them in the forge, I will take care of the rest," replied the Golem. For several minutes it worked away with various tools and potions and wands until it turned from its forge with a single sphere in its hand. Blake looked at this as it cooled and the Golem nodded. "Hmm… this seems right to me. The entire thing is completely unstable, the two souls are in direct opposition to each other."

"Good," Blake replied, carefully taking the newly formed soul.

Although its face could not change there was something about the Golem's body language that suggested puzzlement at Blake being pleased at this. "I suppose you'll be giving this away to someone, and you've reached your depository check-out limit already," the Golem deduced, turning and picking up some papers. "Here, if you still wish to check out from our depository you can bring these notes to the caretaker there. They should restore your privileges."

"Thank you," Blake said tersely as he took those papers. Politeness seemed wasted on a Golem, and especially one that manipulated souls, but it was not a good habit to break.

They returned to the Soul Depository where Blake passed the notes to the Caretaker Golem and was informed they did cancel the two souls they'd taken. There was no reason to linger so Blake took the other soul they needed from the table and led the way out and down the short direct flight of stairs. At the bottom of the stairs though Blake hesitated and looked again at the fused soul. His curse did not give him _that_ much insight into souls and spirits and the sections of the housing appeared firmly attached to each other. But he was not sure how unstable 'completely unstable' was and the sudden image of it breaking apart before the deal could be done was a hard one to ignore.

"I am not sure if this soul or that Red Wizard will last longer," Blake commented when he saw Gann looking enquiringly at him.

"He did seem quite weak," nodded Gann.

Blake nodded and set off down the hall again. "I think I could spend longer debating which to do first than either would take to do."

"Good action now…" Neeshka said, in the tone of someone quoting someone else.

"Is better than the best action taken too late," finished Blake.

"Another military truism?" Gann asked politely.

"Aye," Blake replied as they walked.

The Ward of the Soulless was just as silent as before and, thankfully, smelt no worse so it seemed that the bowels of neither the Red Wizard nor Ammon Jerro had released in death. Blake moved across to look down at the younger man, noting the faint sound and movement of breathing, and after a few moments the Red Wizard's eyes fluttered open to look back up at Blake. The student's mouth worked a little as he swallowed the spittle that had built up and then he spoke.

"Have you brought my soul?" the Red Wizard asked. "My body calls out for its return."

"I am confident I have the right one," Blake replied, holding the soul housing out to where the youth could see it.

To Blake's surprise a mist began to gather around the sphere and to rise from the young Red Wizard as if the air had suddenly become as cold as the Ashenwood and his breath had become visible. Tendrils of this mist began reaching out and started passing each other in opposite directions. The soul housing and the Red Wizard both remaining as full as what passed out of them was perfectly balanced by what was flowing into them.

"Yes… I can feel it now, its warmth. It is familiar to me, if I can just drink it in," the Red Wizard said, his eyes closing in bliss. The mists faded as the process became complete. The Red Wizard sighed. "Ah, such relief. I have existed as a shell, come to know the despair of emptiness. I was not prepared for it."

"Mph," Okku grunted. "Perhaps he'll be wise enough to keep his soul where it belongs from now on."

"Or have some compassion now he knows what others have suffered here," added Gann.

"The surrogate has collected in my soul's place, as Nefris said it would," the Red Wizard said, opening eyes that looked clearer than before, ignoring or not hearing Okku and Gann. "Such an inscrutable woman my mentor, but wise like no one else I've known. I'm somewhat lost without her guidance."

"Good," muttered Blake. Raising his voice he continued. "This seems to have worked so I owe you some thanks."

"Worked? Perhaps. But it was what she wanted though, so I did what I could."

With an obvious effort the Red Wizard turned himself a little onto his side and groped where his back had been. Pulling a somewhat crumpled piece of paper out he offered it to Blake.

"Here, before I forget, take this to the depository caretaker. You do not want to earn his wrath with an overdue soul. You should return to your task. The longer you stay here the more likely you'll be stopped and all this will have been for nothing…" The Red Wizard's voice trailed off as Blake took the paper. "Perhaps it is anyway," he managed to say before slumping back and passing out from the effort of having moved that small amount.

"So…" Neeshka said, drumming her fingers on the hilt of the Rapier where her hand had gone when the Red Wizard moved.

"The rage of my vengeance is passing so do you want to hunt such pathetic prey?" rumbled Okku. "Without his mentor he is lost."

"Hey, he could still be dangerous when he recovers," Neeshka argued, "especially if he learns what happened to Nefris' daughter."

"I did say no mercy and no survivors," nodded Blake, "and even if he is not a threat himself he is a witness to our presence." Blake sighed. "But as ineffective as their resistance has been the other Red Wizard students were at least able to fight back."

"Or 'fight front' since the unsupervised students we have met immediately tried to kill us," Gann pointed out, "aside from the Golem ring where our lovely Tiefling companion managed to distract that fellow from homicidal thoughts. Even if that fellow's reaction did instil that variety of thoughts in our bearded leader."

Blake gave Gann a slight smile of acknowledgement before he sighed again. "We are manipulating and trading in souls, and there has been much blood and guilt on this journey and I fear worse to come. Perhaps if mercy can be shown we should show it.

"It's okay harbour-boy," Neeshka said, putting her hand on Blake's shoulder. He smiled to her and then looked back at the unconscious Red Wizard in thought, not noticing that once he turned away Neeshka caught Okku's eye. She nodded slightly towards the Red Wizard and then gnashed her teeth meaningfully.

"Indeed… little-one," rumbled Okku, a little hesitant as he was not completely sure of the message. "Here, I shall carry him outside where he will be safe when we collapse this building. If he is lucky nothing will harm him within the outer walls of this Academy."

"Aye, he does seem more victim than a victimiser," Blake agreed, while Neeshka mouthed the word 'If' to Okku.

Okku nodded slightly to Neeshka to show he understood that she wanted this Red Wizard to not be lucky. "I have no stomach for talking again with Pit Fiends, so you go ahead while I do this."

With that Okku picked the young Red Wizard up in his maw as gently as if this was an injured cub and padded away. Blake and the others followed down the cross hall and up the main hall towards the stairs until they reached the point where Okku continued on and Blake hesitated. He was a little envious that Okku did have the option of not having to speak to these Infernals and a little reluctant to go ahead. Neeshka gave him another reassuring smile though and that helped him lurch back into motion towards their room, to be rewarded with far less pleasant smiles from the Pit Fiends as they entered that room and they anticipated their amusement.

"I have brought you the soul you asked for," Blake said simply, holding the fused housing up for them to examine.

"Yes, I'm sure you have," replied Thael-ka, his face twisting even more horribly. "And we have been given a lifetime pass to all the celestial planes for our charity work with orphans…" The Pit Fiend broke off as his eyes and other senses focussed on what Blake was showing him. A slightly stunned expression came to his terrible face. "Wait, well I'll be blessed. I think this may be the genuine article Oronock."

"You'll recall, my cranially malformed consort," Oronock sneered, "that there is no conceivable chance that such a soul exists in the first…"

"See for yourself, my cerebrally misshapen colleague" interrupted Thael-ka.

Oronock looked at the soul housing, and then glared at Blake. "What fraud is this? This soul has been grafted together artificially."

"Imagine that. It's _almost_ as if we're in an Academy dedicated to the shaping and manipulation of souls. Now, make good on your deal."

"Bah! Your use of trickery is cheap and despicable," Oronock spat. "It doesn't even deserve to be mentioned in the same sentence as our use of it. Take the soul. But know this mortal… no one bargains with a Devil just once. And we always come out ahead in the final transaction."

"So an acquaintance of mine might have found out," Blake replied as he swapped the fused soul for the one they needed. "He has had his soul removed and it was not stored in the Depository. Given his history I wonder if that soul was of particular interest and given to you."

"Do you wonder now? What a fascinating dilemma," oozed Oronock. "I _do_ hope we can be of assistance in the matter."

"This wouldn't be with regard to a certain warlock with glowing tattoos, would it?" asked Thael-ka.

"It would," Blake replied. "As little as I care for him personally I would like to find Ammon Jerro's soul. Do you know where it is?"

"Ah, it just so happens we do," smiled Thael-ka. "We were entrusted with the soul's keeping by the one who removed it."

"Thael-ka and I have what you might think of as a joint-ownership arrangement," Oronock added. "Unfortunately for you this means you will have to pay both of our prices."

"Pay both of your prices _again_ you mean."

"I have no desire to be again swindled by your soul butchery, so I would like my payment in gold pieces," Oronock replied disdainfully. "Fifty thousand of them."

"You are a fool to trust a commodity whose value changes with the winds, Oronock," scoffed Thael-ka. "_I_ shall emerge the richer from this bargain." Ignoring his fellow Pit Fiend's sneer he continued. "We have a training facility in Maladomini not unlike this one. Baalzebul has put a high premium on souls that might one day swell the ranks of our elite negotiators. You will bring me the souls of three students, young impressionable souls that will easily break. This is non-negotiable."

"You seem to be over-estimating how much I want this soul, or confusing wanting to find it, which I have with you, with wanting to recover it. This soul is already damned by another and has no value to you."

"The soul's value to us is irrelevant. It is worth much to _you_," said Thael-ka, seeming to address Neeshka more than Blake, "and for that you will pay our price."

As Blake wondered what the Pit Fiend meant and Neeshka worried about the same thing Gann spoke. "My friend here is rather stubborn," he said, trying his best merchant's smile, "and the more you try to push your current bargains the more stubborn he might become. I suspect you could still get a better price from him though if we haggle a little than if you have to sell this elsewhere."

"Shrewdly assessed," Oronock admitted. "You would go far in our realm you know. If you like I could put something in writing to arrange it."

"A generous offer," said Gann, his smile only slightly faltering, "but I shall… regretfully… pass."

"For now, then, I shall set my price at twenty-thousand gold," Oronock said firmly to Blake. Then he saw the look on Blake's face. "Though, should you reconsider our offer I could always offer a further discount."

"Oronock, you spineless imp," exclaimed Thael-ka in disgust, "you could have got twice that." He too looked back at Blake. "You'll not get the same discount from me, mortal. My offer is two student souls, no less. Take it or leave it."

Blake nodded. "I shall return."

Returning to the hallway for some privacy Blake mused for a few moments, watched by a concerned Tiefling and Hagspawn. There was only one blessing in this, aside from Neeshka being present, and that was that Okku had not yet returned. This was a difficult enough decision without Okku roaring about things that his conscience was already loudly reminding him of. "I think the two souls we found while searching down here would match what they want."

"But do we really want to hand them over to these Devils?" Gann asked. "At least the fused soul has a chance of escape or oblivion if it splinters."

"I am not sure it would make much difference whatever we do," replied Blake. Gann frowned at him at this seemingly casual attitude to soul dealing. "These are Red Wizard souls," Blake explained to the frown, "and we have viewed them and seen that they are not unusual for their kind. As young as they were they were raised to indulge in slavery and torture and, here, in the manipulation and destruction of souls."

"All true enough," Gann admitted.

"Perhaps, had they remained alive," continued Blake, "they might have had a chance to change their ways and avoid damnation but as disembodied souls I find it unlikely that, from what we have viewed of them, that they'd not end up in the Hells if we smash their soul housings when we destroy this Academy."

"So you argue that they would go to the Hells whether we release them or trade them?" Gann asked. Blake nodded and Gann sighed. "I want to argue that if we do neither then we would at least delay their fate but with how many we have slain and sooner sent to their judgement that argument seems weak." Gann nodded and sighed again. "I cannot fault your logic but I do ask you to consider how far this logic might take you."

Having lost track of how much coin Neeshka had made from her selling it was a surprise even to Blake the size of the money pouch she pulled out of her Bag of Holding. They had no counting board and no scales to weigh the coins so they had to do this the hard way. Rows of ten coins on the floor, then ten of these rows, then ten of those squares… it was fortunate that some of the gold pieces were worth multiples. Despite his expressed doubts Gann went and fetched the two student souls from the table in the Soul Depository while Blake and Neeshka did this. Since those souls had not been stored there the Caretaker did not care whether they were taken or left. Eventually they had the price in gold pieces in a separate purse and could return into the room.

"I am prepared to trade for Ammon Jerro's soul," Blake said, hoping Okku would continue with his absence.

"Yes, this ransom is acceptable," replied Thael-ka, assessing the souls and the contents of the coin purse. "The soul is yours now. But be forewarned… you have bought possession of the soul, not redemption, Jerro's is a marked soul. When he dies, it will go where it has long been destined, and the Hells will celebrate."

Blake nodded at this confirmation of what he had thought and said. To his mild surprise as they made the exchange he saw the soul housing was a russet red rather than the deep oily black he had expected. There did not seem any ambiguity the Pit Fiends could exploit to only meet the letter of the deal but he knew how much that would be their nature and, after the previous deal, their inclination. When they returned to the Ward of the Soulless though Blake felt a little reassured as he saw how similar the colour of the soul housing and Ammon Jerro's beard were. Perhaps it had been a square deal and it had been his expectations that were at fault.

"Right," Blake said, looking in mild disgust at the soul housing in his hand. "From the Red Wizard and his soul it seems like all I will need to do is bring this housing close enough to Ammon Jerro…"

There was a flash of light between Blake and the bed and as this cleared it revealed the seemingly unprepossessing form of Mephasm. His red eyes looked calmly at them as his Elf-like features moved into a slight smile. Gann's insight let him see past the surface appearance to the power hidden beneath and he rallied to the defence of the others who were strangely not reacting to this threat.

"Stand back Devil…" Gann said, hesitating, "Demon…" He decided to play it safe. "Infernal!"

"No," Blake gestured to Gann. "Be cautious but Neeshka and I have met Mephasm before. He was one of those bound by Ammon Jerro."

"Indeed," replied Mephasm, "and now it is the time for the minor service Neeshka promised me in return for my aid in teleporting her to the bear-god's barrow."

Neeshka frowned at the incredibly powerful Archdevil. "Remember, you promised this service would not cause any harm to anyone I loved…"

"Or that you even liked," Mephasm interrupted. "I remember and I _shall_ abide by that statement." He looked to Blake. "Ammon Jerro's soul please."

"What?" replied Blake in surprise.

"How did you put it regarding the souls of those students?" Mephasm asked rhetorically. "If they are damned anyway then why not hand them over, why delay their inevitable fate, and as those _fool_ Pit Fiends said Ammon Jerro's fate is inevitable. He is damned, he will suffer, but… after past experience… I would prefer that suffering to be at my hands."

"So that was why the Pit Fiend looked meaningfully at her," realised Gann, "and this is how far the logic leads you. To hand over the soul of someone who had been an ally…" He suddenly realised something more, that Blake was not protesting. "Wait, you are not _actually_ considering this?"

"I am, and in some ways that is more than Ammon Jerro deserves," Blake replied flatly. "That I _am_ considering this rather than agreeing at once. He was far more my enemy than my ally and his aid and his remorse at Shandra's farm only went so far to balance his crimes."

"But how sure are you of his crimes?" Gann argued. "From comments you've made and the story you told you thought he was the King of Shadows for a time. If you were not sure of that can you be sure of his guilt? Can you be sure he committed the crimes you condemn him for?"

"Gann, your concern for Ammon Jerro is kind," said Blake, looking at Gann so his friend could see the sincerity in his eyes, "but I am sure. The first time I saw him we had fought past his servant Infernals, past the bodies of innocent bystanders, and he was standing over the corpse of one of the Neverwinter Nine. The second time I saw him was in his haven and he was standing over Shandra, his Granddaughter, with her armour and body showing the wounds of his arcane power."

"And the destruction of your village?" Gann asked, in the tone of a man who knows he has lost the argument but feels obliged to continue.

"That I did not see…" admitted Blake with scrupulous fairness.

"But I smelt that his Infernals had been there," Neeshka added.

"And the Statue of Purification whose ritual powers he took was near my home village," nodded Blake. "So I know Infernals were in West Harbour and I know Ammon Jerro was in the Illefarn Ruins near West Harbour. Appearances can deceive but he never denied his guilt in that matter."

Mephasm smiled very slightly to himself. It added a little savour to this mortal's decision that his deduction was wrong. Mephasm knew that Ammon Jerro had not killed any of the people of West Harbour. He had induced a deep sleep in them to keep them out of the way while he passed through and while his servants searched for anything of interest. There was only a very brief time between this and when the Shadow Reaver arrived but had it been the Infernals that killed West Harbour then the villagers would have been torn to pieces rather than having the life drained from them to be raised again as shadows.

"Besides, there is another crime we can be sure of," Blake continued, unaware of Mephasm's thoughts. "After he killed Shandra he teleported us from his Haven…"

"I don't see how that is a crime," interrupted Gann in surprise.

"He left Shandra behind!" Neeshka snapped.

"We owed Shandra a lot," continued Blake. "Owed her the attempt to bring her back from death with one of the _two_ Scrolls of Resurrection we had found and were carrying at the time. Failing that we owed her a proper burial with all the rites. Instead Ammon Jerro teleported us away without her and without warning and remained arrogant despite his haste having denied his granddaughter that chance or that service."

"Hmm," Gann mused, "you know my feelings towards your Gods. I cannot care as much as you that she was denied those rites, but her being denied a chance to live again does seem more worthy of regret."

"I admit the chance was slender. Elanee did say that she could no longer feel Shandra's life, so there might not have been enough of a link between body and soul to use the former as a focus to call back the latter, but she was worth the attempt."

"If you go back on the deal that was accepted then all you do is earn my enmity," interjected Mephasm, trying to sound reasonable as well as threatening. "You will not change Ammon Jerro's fate and whatever tortures I inflict on him will, probably, be no more than he would suffer elsewhere. Though I admit that would not be from lack of trying on my part."

"Very well," Blake nodded. "Neeshka's word is my word. I will not go back on it."

As Blake handed the soul housing over Mephasm allowed himself the luxury of a marginally larger smile. Soon Ammon Jerro would find out what it was like to be trapped in a circle and subject to the whims of another. The amusement of watching him kill his own granddaughter had not made up for the humiliation of being taunted by those three Succubi or being used for someone else's obsession. Mephasm had plans and they were more using the span of eternity to crush Ammon Jerro with the insignificance of his life and his deeds than they were anything more crude and involving spikes and fire and blood.

"My thanks," said Mephasm, accepting the soul housing, "the debt is repaid. And before Neeshka here reminds me, I shall remain quiet on this matter."

"Reminds you?" Gann asked.

"That knowledge of this deal being struck could cause harm to her paramour," replied Mephasm, "and so be in breach of my promise."

"Let this be the end of it," Blake responded firmly. "You are too intelligent and dangerous and we have bargained too much already."

"That we shall not meet again I cannot promise," replied Mephasm. "As I said to your love… blood calls to blood."

With that there was another flash of light and Mephasm was gone. Blake looked at where he had been and at the now irrevocably unsalvageable body of Ammon Jerro. It seemed wrong to leave the body to just die but it would be easier to just walk away. To let death take its course unwitnessed rather than do something to speed this. But nothing about this academy had been easy so Blake moved the few steps closer and reached down. The neck was surprisingly frail feeling under his hands as he squeezed and crushed the life from the still breathing corpse.

Neeshka handed him a sheet she had stripped from one of the other beds and Blake placed this over the body. Although he did not need to ask that the soul find its rightful judgement as he knew where it had gone Blake still closed his eyes a moment. He prayed to Jergal that burning and collapsing this academy would be proper burial for Ammon Jerro and all the other corpses within these walls and he prayed to Tyr that this had been justice. Then he opened his eyes and looked at the waiting Neeshka.

"Assuming I ever get around to proposing to you," said Blake, trying to smile and to break the mood, "I think I might have met one of the in-laws I'd gain. Perhaps even the grandfather that gave you your exotic looks."

"Assuming I say yes, that is," Neeshka smiled back, raising one eyebrow towards an 'exotic' horn as she tried to match her harbour-boy's light tone.

"As delightful as that banter is I am still… concerned… that you were willing to do such a thing," pressed Gann, not accepting the change in subject. "We are walking a steep slope here with the dirt crumbling from beneath our feet."

"What else was there to do?" Blake asked, trying to sound reasonable. "We need to stop this curse and having a Devil of Mephasm's great power and intelligence working against us would make that almost certainly impossible."

"Yes, we need to stop this curse," nodded Gann, "but at what cost?"

"Ask Okku, he sacrificed his clan to trap the spirit-eater. Sacrificed those of his own blood, can I do less?" Blake argued. "Should I have refused to sacrifice someone to who I owed so little, if anything at all?" Gann looked unconvinced so Blake continued. "And consider, if not for Mephasm aiding Neeshka in reaching me the Red Wizard plot would have proceeded on course. Ammon Jerro justified his actions by saying sacrifices were necessary for a greater good, that I was naive to seek to avoid making such sacrifices… well, perhaps he should _not_ have been so keen to dispel that naivety."

"Some 'naivety' should not _be_ dispelled."

"Maybe," Blake admitted. "But Ammon Jerro's fate was set before either of us was born. He already had an army of Infernals at his command during the battle in my home village when I was a baby in my mother's arms. He had already dealt with dark powers and acquired the Sword of Gith for it to shatter and a shard to pass through her and into me. Whether handing his soul to Mephasm was Tyr's justice I do not know, and I do doubt, but as I _have_ done to him what he would have done to others it does feel at least like Hoar's poetic justice."

"Your skill with words is unconvincing," replied Gann with a frown, "but I can see your doubts are genuine with my Dreamer's Eye. I can see how much you are trying to convince yourself as much as convince me." He paused and then nodded in decision. "Very well, you made your choice and if your gods are truly real you can answer to them for it. Now we need to continue with the quest whose continuation you have bought in such rare coin."

Blake nodded back before trying again to change the subject. "So, we now have three of the four souls we need. There seems no other place to search despite the impression gained from outside so I am beginning to wonder about those mirrors and that sphere and whatever magic it might trigger."

"There does at least seem nothing else of possible use down here," Gann agreed, accepting the change of subject this time.

Heading back to the north they were joined by Okku squeezing his way down the stairs from the classrooms above. He murmured softly to himself as he sensed the tension between the three mortals. Trading with Infernals could lead to discord so he was not surprised by this, but he did wonder what he had missed and whether he wanted to know. Deciding he did not but would listen politely if they wanted to tell him Okku followed the little-one and the others into the room.

"Humans can be vain," Okku rumbled as they passed one, "but who needs this many mirrors?"

"I can think of some uses for them," smiled Blake, winking at Neeshka, "but I agree this is rather unusual."

Neeshka brightened a little as she realised the wink and the flirting meant Blake was not angry with her. She knew her harbour-boy was kind hearted and handing over even Ammon Jerro's soul would have troubled him. That unease could have led him to blame her for putting him in the situation without even the warning that her having demanded what exactly Mephasm wanted as his price could have given. But he seemed to have genuinely accepted that Ammon Jerro's soul had been a price worth paying. Which could be a concern in a different way if his 'naivety' did not return.

Blake moved across to where the orb hung, suspended by its magic, and this time lightly brushed his fingers across it. Distracted by her thoughts Neeshka didn't notice this until a beam of light streaked from the obelisk and bounced off the mirror that was turned the right way. She leapt three feet sideways and glared at Blake like an affronted cat, the resemblance aided both by her bright eyes and the swishing of her tail.

"Hey," Neeshka protested, "a little warning next time would be nice."

"Sorry," replied Blake, a little puzzled that Neeshka had been so surprised. He'd not tried to hide what he was doing. "Still, it looks like the mirrors are to guide the light… probably to that other dais… and the beam did look similar to the one produced when the Mephit experiment was completed."

"You think this will provide us another soul?" Gann asked.

"I think everything in this cursed place has something to do with souls," nodded Blake, "and this might be another of their experiments."

"Do we want to complete it then little-one?" Okku rumbled. "Rather than leave it unsolved so they might not benefit from it?"

"With as many of them as we have killed I doubt they could benefit from it, solved or not, and if the Red Knight blesses our plans we would be returning here to destroy this place before too long."

"Very well then," Okku accepted, "we shall take this risk and see if it leads us onwards."

Blake looked at the orb a few more moments before reaching out again. "This seems portable," he muttered, hoping he had been right that it also lacked a trap.

To Blake's relief he could take the orb and without suffering any pain. They worked their way along the line the light might take and rotated each mirror they came to so its reflective surface would send this ray onwards. This path was quite an indirect one and Blake considered trying to move rather than only rotate some mirrors to shorten it, but these were fixed firmly to the floor and there was a very slight chance that the distance the light travelled was important. In a few places it was fortunate they had moved, or in Okku's case smashed, the bookcases to reveal the hidden doors to let them be opened for the beam.

Finally they reached the other dais and rotated the last mirror. Blake tapped the orb and smiled as the ray streaked into the room and onto the dais. This smile faded as he saw the lack of results. In the same manner as many men he tapped the orb again, but a little firmer as if more emphasis in the triggering would make any difference. Neeshka smiled to him as the second ray of light arrived and gave a similar lack of results. Blake frowned at the dais and then at the orb in his hand.

"Hrm, nothing," Blake grumbled as he considered a third attempt.

"Can I see that rhyme again?" asked Gann. Blake handed him the journal with the note sticking out of it like a bookmark. "Ah," Gann nodded as he read, "we know we have the splintered and damned, and if the one from the Red Wizard was 'imagined' then perhaps this should be 'imitated'?"

"And it would need something to imitate?"

"Perhaps," agreed Gann, "perhaps it is like a shadow or like a projection through stained or engraved glass. Something needs to be in the way of the light."

"Which would explain why there are two daises with the same patterns surrounding them," Blake nodded, adding after a moment. "Though as it is a soul we need would be someone rather than something."

"Very well," shrugged Gann with a mock sigh, "I shall return to that first room and place myself on the dais. If I die though and do not become a Telthor I expect you to come after me, that Wall looked _most_ unpleasant…"

Blake winced and almost collapsed, his hand going to his chest as his legs buckled under him. "Aahh."

"Harbour-boy?" Neeshka asked in concern, moving to Blake's side so fast she almost seemed to not move. To just appear there with her hands supporting him and her face peering into his.

"No, nothing. I am fine now", replied Blake, trying to reassure her. "Just a twinge from this curse at what Gann said." He took a few deep breaths and ignored Neeshka's dubious look. "I think… Araman said the Betrayer's Crusade was for love, for the sake of the Red Woman."

"For rescuing her from the Wall of the Faithless?" Gann asked. Then he nodded. "That _is_ something a man might do for the woman he loves."

"Though in trying to save _his_ mate he robbed many others of theirs," growled Okku.

Blake slowly nodded in agreement with both of them as he straightened. He did not know if Akachi had seen the possible consequences of his actions or if he would have cared about them if he had. Blake was also not sure whether even with the benefit of hindsight and the history of the spirit-eater if he would be able to care about anything but saving Neeshka in a similar situation. "Still, let us see if you are right about these daises Gann."

"Indeed," replied Gann, turning and trotting out of the room.

It was hard to know how long to wait and it was fortunate they had a bear-god chaperone to inhibit the more easily embarrassed Blake. Without this he and Neeshka might have passed the time more pleasurably than in him counting seconds and a few more for luck. As he tapped the Orb he hoped he had given Gann enough time and it seemed he had since as the light streaked in and vanished above the dais a figure took shape. This was like someone partially reverting from invisibility but to their surprise it did not look very like Gann.

"Ugly," Neeshka commented, as she looked the Hagspawn up and down, "are you sure this thing worked right?"

"No," admitted Blake, adding, "and this _will_ be a shock for Gann when he returns."

"What will?" Gann asked as he jogged in. Blake glanced at him in surprise as he'd taken far less time to get back than Blake had allowed him to get there. "Oh," said Gann, frowning at the dais, "I see."

As well as a bear's face and body language could Okku managed to look puzzled at the byplay. His vision went far past what these mortals would consider sight and even as a bear of flesh his perception of people would have included their scent rather than just their surface appearance. So he was not sure why they considered this as looking much different from Gann as he could 'see' the essential similarities. And in any case as a god-of-bears he found all these two-legged creatures to be as similar as most but Druids and Rangers found bears.

Blake approached the image. "Hello?"

"Perhaps _I_ need to speak to it," Gann suggested at the lack of response. "It may be a _far_ from perfect shadow of me but it is a shadow of _me_."

As Gann also approached the translucent Hagspawn began to swirl like a Telthor losing its form but rather than dissipating it seemed to flow down and into the base of the dais. There was a click from the centre of this and a small panel opened. As the last of the mist, that reminded him a little of what they had seen in the Ward of the Soulless, vanished into that hole Blake stepped forward to peer into it. He was not surprised at what he saw and neither were the others when he reached down and pulled out a soul housing.

"Strange," Blake said, peering at it, "this does not appear quite real."

"As I said, is like a shadow, perhaps," commented Gann, "and rather a distorted one at that. Hopefully it was it will suffice for that door."

"Aye, it does look like it almost worked," Blake nodded, "was almost accurate enough to be real."

"Oh please, you saw that thing. I refuse to believe that my soul…"

"Is that of a Hagspawn?" Blake asked and teased.

"Not that of a Hagspawn of that _common_ kind."

Blake nodded and dropped the subject. "We should head up the tower to open the door, now we have what seem to be the four 'keys'."

"What of this Academy though?" asked Gann, seeing the flaw in the suggestion. "If we have to depart through the portal we know is past that door we might be unable to return here to level this place."

"The problem, my friend, is that we need to be at the top of a tower," Blake sighed. "We need the tower intact long enough for us to pass through the portal and we need to be able to watch the results of our work rather than having to go up those stairs and through a portal and away out of sight."


	19. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

The long climb up the tower seemed even longer with Okku's renewed grumbling about the stairs. As there was nothing they could do to help or solve his complaints, and the bear-god disdained sympathy, this was quite irritating. Even so Blake felt happier the further they went as the closer they got to the door they closer they got to a chance to finally make some progress. Whether they would need to use the portal past this door to 'advance the pawn' or whether there was enough information in the tower room to avoid that he neither knew nor cared. At worse it would at least be a different problem and hopefully one that would not involve manipulating souls or slaughtering teenagers.

Blake crossed the room and started slotting the soul housings into the depressions in the door. "This here, and this here, and here, and here," he muttered to himself as he placed each one.

With the last soul in place the door mechanism clicked into action and there was a clack of bolts retracting. Blake's relief they had found the right 'keys' was short lived though as suddenly the runes scribed across the door flared a deep and unsettling red and those bolts shot back into their sockets. It was obvious something was wrong and Blake wondered if his relief had been mistaken. Then he heard a scrape of a boot sole and an exasperated hiss from Neeshka behind him. Turning he decided the souls were likely correct and the problem was the magic responding to the five Red Wizards that had arrived from somewhere.

"More of them? Where were they all hiding?" Neeshka asked, her Rapier having appeared in her hand in a blur of motion. "I thought we cleared this place out."

"And for that as well as all else you will die," sneered a Red Wizard, glaring at them.

"Damn," Blake said eloquently, putting his hand on the hilt of his sword but not drawing it yet. "And if dreams were accurate then that is Araman."

"Wait," ordered the Red Wizard that Blake had identified, gesturing to his fellows to hold back.

"For what?" the other one asked, his sneer being mixed with puzzlement. "We _have_ waited and done all you asked Araman."

"Is there anything left of you, inside that hollow shell?" Araman said, looking intensely at Blake and searching his face for something. "Do you know my face… the face of a brother who once ran laughing in your wake? My smiles have faded and your face has changed many times, but something of you must still remain."

"I know your face from the Slumbering Coven's Dreamscape," replied Blake, "and how that drew out the memories of the echo of Akachi that does exist within this curse. I do not know how much remains of him though, and that is one of the things I seek to discover."

The four other Red Wizards were exchanging looks of puzzlement as they realised there was more going on here than they had been told. They had heard of the Slumbering Coven and talk of their Dreamscape and curses and memories of echoes showed there had been more behind Araman's coup than a simple and normal lust for power. If Araman had a murkier hidden agenda than was normal even for Thay then should they support him? If these people had dealt with the Slumbering Coven and escaped where many Red Wizards had not then should they oppose them?

"Turn away," Araman continued. "Cast your eyes back to Rashemen… to home. Leave this place now and none will hinder you."

"_What_? With how many of us they have killed?" protested the other Red Wizard. "What lunacy is this, I see no reason to play more games…"

"Silence," Araman growled, turning briefly to the other man. Whatever his face showed it was enough to silence the quartet and cow them back into submission. He turned back to Blake and tried to assume a more friendly expression. "You have this chance to turn back from folly, to heed the warning I should have been strong enough to give before we marched through the Black Gate. Turn back or render meaningless all that you have suffered."

"You expect me to allow this curse to consume me?" asked Blake. "To continue preying on the spirits of Rashemen and leave Okku's oath to end it unfulfilled?"

Ignoring Okku's rumble of protest at that idea Araman continued. "There is no 'you' to be consumed, you _are_ the hunger and what is being devoured is just the latest mask for it. A garment to be worn out and cast away. And my brother's suffering is the punishment of his betrayal of our god, not something to be casually reversed."

"You think I sacrificed my _clan_ casually?" Okku roared, shaking the glass in the windows and driving all the Red Wizards but Araman back half a step.

"Leave," warned Araman, unintimidated and continuing to ignore the god-of-bears in his focus on Blake. "Beyond that door you may find truth, but you also risk sundering the planes and losing far more than you hope to gain."

"If truth will help me end this curse," Blake replied, "and end your brother's suffering as well as my own then I have _no_ choice but to continue."

"Then I cannot protect you any further," Araman said sadly. "My fight lies elsewhere, and not with you."

With that Araman turned and walked away, surprising his former allies even more than he did Blake and the others. Having their leader who was, probably, also the most powerful among them leave now he had brought them face to face with the invaders was not good. That this desertion meant they didn't even have the slender edge in numbers of being five against four only made it worse. They exchanged more glances until the one that had been speaking spoke again.

"He is mad," said the Red Wizard, dismissing Araman. "Madder than Nefris ever was. Come… let us make an end to this before he changes his mind. And if he objects then perhaps we should make an end to him as well."

"These odds are becoming worse," a female Red Wizard muttered. "Atabe and Zeruza were stupid enough to take classes and as little use as Djafi and Inarus might have been they would at least have been some."

"You are pawns in a struggle you do not understand…" Blake began.

"Your conversation did suggest as much, but we understand enough to want you dead whatever you say," interrupted the Red Wizard, who seemed to be relishing his self-appointed role of spokesman and who added after a moment, "or whatever Araman wished."

"And with your evils the same is true in reverse," Blake replied. He switched to the language of magic and, before they could recover from their surprise that he was chanting an incantation rather than drawing his sword, cast _Wail of the Banshee_.

The spectral dust swirled in the middle of them and the great ghostly figure burst upwards, inhaled with back bowing force, and shrieked. The Red Wizard that had been worried staggered but did not fall as this wail rippled past her. She did not seem that pleased with the good fortune that had let her survive however when she saw that she was the only one that had and was now outnumbered four to one. Quickly she muttered a spell of _Etherealness_ and Neeshka hissed with irritation as her Rapier passed a moment too late and harmlessly through the ghost that the Red Wizard had become.

"Hey, harbour-boy. You missed one," Neeshka chided Blake.

"Just hit her when she becomes tangible," sighed Blake, drawing his sword and moving to get between the Red Wizard and the stairs.

"And keep on trying," Gann smiled, flicking his spear out and through the Red Wizard, "even while she has not."

Even if the weapons could do her no harm the Red Wizard became increasingly frantic over the next few minutes. A blade or a spearhead coming towards her face still made her flinch and try as she might she could not get past these people and their bear. She might be able to pass through them in the same way their weapons were passing through her but she did not want to put that to the test. Finally though as the armoured man with the large shield stepped into her path again her reflexes betrayed her. She had a moment to feel the pain in her knuckles from where they had struck the man's shield in her attempt to punch and shove him aside as she would a servant. Then another moment to realise that contact meant she was solid again as the spell's workings had counted that as an attack. And then the pain in her knuckles faded into insignificance compared with that in her sides and belly.

Neeshka twisted her rapier, though the slenderness of the blade meant that made less difference to the wound, and withdrew it from where it had entered just below the Red Wizard's ribcage to pass across through her guts so the tip of it emerged slightly from the other side. The Red Wizard started to crumple and one hand go to the entry wound but then Gann stabbed her close to between the shoulder blades. Metal grated against the bone of her vertebrae and her back bowed in the opposite direction. These blows would likely have been fatal but, not taking any chances, Blake swept his sword in to clip her head from her shoulders.

As sharp as Blake's sword was, and as well placed and neat as the blow had been, it was still messier than the deaths the other three Red Wizards had suffered. The head bounced across the floor and the headless corpse fell to the carpet as Gann withdrew his spear. This carpet began to turn from purple to a darker red as the blood drained, mostly, from the body's neck into it and across the floor. They'd not found an exit off either staircase but Blake wondered if there was a room below this one and if it was fortunate these floorboards were so closely fitted. If there had been more gaps then something nasty might have been coming through that ceiling, but at least it would have been draining away from this room.

Dismissing that thought Blake skirted the puddle and went back across to the door and the runes that were no longer glowing red. In his concentration on the fight he'd not heard the bolts withdraw again but he found the door had unlocked. A blue carpet led down the centre of the narrow room beyond and to what, like those in the Room of Doors, appeared similar to an Illefarn song portal. Clouds were swirling within its frame to show it was active but there was no Golem keeper of this portal to question about where it led. There was also no inscription on the frame but Blake had not expected any.

Glancing at the bookcases against either sidewall Blake sighed. "I am glad this room remained sealed, and those have not been ransacked, but I could wish this Headmistress had not had quite so many secrets. Not quite as many books she decided to keep in this extra safety."

"I thought you liked books, harbour-boy," Neeshka teased. "And who knows, perhaps you'll find some erotic pamphlets."

"Those would be something this Nefris would want to keep out of public sight," agreed Gann. "And lust does not fade simply because one has become a matron."

"Hopefully Neeshka is right," Blake said, to their surprise. He then explained. "The pamphlets would pale with comparison with my beloved, but each book that is erotic tales is one less book that is a tome of magic I have to try to decipher for clues. We have spent too long in this place."

"Be careful," warned Gann, "I agree it will be good to leave here, but remember what you have said about the curse increasing your own need to be moving forward."

"Hrm," Okku growled, "but before we can move forward we need to move back a little. There is something to be done before we leave."

Blake looked blank for a few moments before his face changed with sudden realisation. "Oh, aye, the Golem to be destroyed."

Travelling down the other set of stairs and knowing that he would have to climb them again did much to worsen Okku's already ill temper but not as much as entering the workshop and seeing it was empty. A few open cabinets and drawers suggested the Golem had packed what it wanted and was trying to make an escape. Okku roared in rage and whirled and started off around and down the main hall.

"Blast," grumbled Blake as he jogged after the bear-god. "I wanted to be sure we no longer needed it, that the souls were correct to open that door, before we destroyed it."

"Then let us hope, little-one," Okku grumbled in return, "that the delay has not let it escape… as well as inflicting those stairs on me again."

"And inflicting your grousing on us, _again_," muttered Neeshka, quiet enough that Okku could, and did, pretend to not hear it.

"Aye, let us hope that," Blake replied to Okku, also pretending to not have heard Neeshka, "and that if it does escape that Thayans would not treat a delusional Golem with any kindness…"

"I thought you said it _did_ have some fragment of soul to be released?" queried Gann.

"It does, which is a reason in itself to pursue it, to send it to whatever punishment it deserves for its experiments."

"Agreed," rumbled Okku, barely slowing as he reached the front doors of the Academy and disdained subtlety in opening them. Wood splintered as the screws holding those doors to their hinges were ripped free by the impact and Okku continued outside.

"The Thayans might not know that it is not delusional," Blake continued, stepping between the sagging and wide open doors. "But if they question it before they destroy it for their sport then it could be dangerous. Both as a witness to our having been here and because of the knowledge of soul butchery it possesses."

Dashing on through both sets of open gates in the walls and out onto the road Okku suddenly slowed and chuckled slightly as he looked at the sight ahead. "It appears your Tymorra goddess has favoured you, Tiefling."

"She does seem to be smiling on us now," Neeshka smiled. "Or maybe Beshaba, _The Maid of Misfortune_, 'favoured' the Golem."

"Another reason to prefer the spirits," commented Gann. "As capricious as they can be, no offence old-father-bear, I don't have the concern whether it's one 'goddess' extending her power or another withdrawing hers."

Blake was unsure if one of the pair of Wyverns was the one whose mind he'd dominated and which had flown off with a wounded Gnoll. That the two beasts were only hissing and snapping at each other as they fed on the Gnoll carcasses on the road suggested they might have a bond and so, perhaps, be a mated pair. Their tolerance of each other however did not apply to the Golem, who was looking understandably reluctant to approach them as they ate. The Golem glanced back towards the Academy and seeing Okku and the others cautiously advancing towards it tried again to get past the Wyverns.

One darted forward and took a bite at the Golem. This thing was not-food. It tasted like dirt. But it moved. So it perhaps threat to food. So thing needed to be bitten and driven away if hissing not work. Big bear also is getting closer. That real threat to food. Had roared at self over food before. Must drive off not-food thing before bear too close. Charge not-food thing and attack now.

The Golem staggered back a little as the Wyvern hissed and brandished its wings to try to look bigger and spat out a mouthful of clay. Another bite took another chunk out of the arm the Golem used to try to protect itself and then the Wyvern's tail struck. Although it could not poison a Golem the stinger still smashed a small crater out of it and the Golem staggered back a little more as the Wyvern gave another hiss and retreated. Distracted by this it was a surprise to the Golem when Okku raked a paw across its legs and shredded the back of its thighs and knees.

Watched carefully by the Wyverns as they continued to feed, chewing on exposed parts or rasping meat off bones or from inside the armour with their tongues, Okku began dismembering the Golem. The Wyverns gave a few hisses towards him but seemed more concerned with how much the other was eating and whether they had found a particularly succulent or large piece. Having seen where the little-one had found it in the Keeper of Doors, and having fought that other Clay Golem in the Academy, Okku knew where what he was looking for was. With a roar so their hissing did not go unanswered and to warn the Wyverns off seeking fresh prey Okku returned to the waiting mortals and dropped the spirit core of that Golem at Blake's feet.

"I know what you are thinking, little-one," Okku rumbled, seeing the look on Blake's face, "and no… I do not want to play fetch."

"I recall your opinion of dogs, my friend, and I'd not mistake you for one even if you were willing to bark and yelp and show your belly. Though I do admit the thought of 'fetch' did occur when something so ball-like was brought to me."

"Maybe so," Gann smiled, "but has it occurred to you the size of the tree you would need to throw as a suitable 'stick' for a god-of-bears?"

"Another good reason to not annoy Okku with that suggestion," agreed Blake as Okku grumbled in agreement.

Although the road surface was soft with the drifting dirt it was firm enough that Blake's sword could smash the spirit core rather than just hammer it into this dirt. The spirit-eater curse twitched slightly as it felt the soul fragment be freed and drift past uneaten but by now controlling it was near instinctive for Blake. He was concerned it was becoming too easy though. The hunger seemed to have little ability to think and plan rather than simply devour but as generations of farmers and animal handlers had learned even a relatively stupid beast could surprise you if you were too complacent.

After grinding the remains of the spirit core into the dirt under his boot-heel, and scuffing some dirt across to bury them, Blake led the way back to the Academy. He paused and frowned as he wondered whether it was worth asking Neeshka to climb up to one of those windows. They'd found and used the souls they'd needed and the door to the portal room was open. But even if they didn't need more souls much of this Academy seemed unexplored and surprises could be painful. However delay to find out what was behind those windows could be even more so.

Neeshka's eyes flicked to look at Blake, practice letting her make this a discreet check, and she was relieved as she saw where he was looking. She'd noticed a fresh mound of dirt in the dent in the ground to one side of the ramp and that was not something she wanted Blake to notice. One thing Neeshka had decided was that she was going to be as honest as possible with her harbour-boy. She might not tell him everything, but if he had noticed the mound and asked then she would have been truthful that it was a shallow burial rather than lie about this or who was buried there.

Blake moved between the sagging main doors and was struck by the contrast with when they had entered the academy before. Then a murmur of conversation and the thumping of the Golem duels had replaced the howl of the winds on the mountain but now all was silence. It was good that no alarm had been raised and things remained quiet but the contrast was a reminder of how much they had done within these walls. As they began to climb the stairs to the tower again Okku started complaining and Blake found it a little harder to tolerate this time. As ill suited as the stair treads were for the god-of-bears the thought that at least he had immortal stamina did occur and the feeling that it would be nice to sit down and have something to eat and drink was becoming more insistent.

The tower room seemed to have not changed and Blake felt some relief that the door remained open and unlocked. "I'll check through the bookcases, my sweet," he said to Neeshka, "can you check for hidden compartments?"

"Of course," Neeshka replied, moving across to the wall.

Gradually Blake worked his way through the books while Neeshka tapped each of the rectangles of plaster formed by the grid of beams. Gann watched for a few moments until she explained she was trying to find if any sounded hollow and so might have a space rather than solid wall behind it. Leaning his spear into the corner between a bookcase and the wall it was against Gann drew his dagger and started tapping with its pommel along the opposite wall to Neeshka. Meanwhile Okku watched and waited and snorted as their searching continued without them claiming any results from it.

"I hope this… activity… is fruitful, little-one," Okku murmured as Blake crossed to the second bookcase. "And I thought you eager to leave."

"Eager to leave when we know _where_ we are leaving to," replied Blake, looking up from his reading. "I think that portal is how Nefris and Lienna might have spoken to Myrkul, but that would have been before Nefris used this to send her daughter to your barrow. As nice a place as that is, my friend, if we are taken there or to near there it would take us days to get back to Mulsantir and then back here."

"Myself, I would prefer to not give the Thayans that much chance to discover our deeds here," Gann smiled, continuing to tap, "though speaking to a dead god of the dead also does not appeal to me."

A few more minutes passed before Blake sighed and, consulting one of the books, made a few divinations on the portal. "Hrmm, this magic seems too complex for the portal to just lead to Okku's barrow."

"Is it that simple then to go from Thay to Rashemen?" Gann asked, interested.

"Not _simple_ no," admitted Blake, leaving the book open and referring to a second and then a third. "If it were then I might have tested my, mostly theoretical, knowledge and made an attempt to go from Rashemen to the Sword Coast. But this portal is like…" Blake paused and considered an analogy. "Like juggling extra things and while blindfolded when neither is necessary." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration as he felt a headache start to build.

"Well," said Gann, trying to be reassuring, "you seem to be managing to interpret it."

"My harbour-boy is smart," Neeshka said with pride.

"Aye, smart enough to know I can't figure this out fast enough," admitted Blake, putting the three books away and snagging a few more off the shelves. "I think we are going to have to find out where this leads by going where it leads."

"Then let us enter, little-one," rumbled Okku. "This hesitation is beneath us."

"Nothing in the walls," Neeshka added.

Blake nodded to them both and with some trepidation stepped forward and through the frame and the clouds within. There was the usual sense of disorientation but even as his eyes focussed on his new surroundings a strange sensation of lightness did not fade. If going from a windy mountain to a silent academy had been a shock then Blake was not sure what to call this. Above them was an endless swirling sky of streaks of white against blue and with great battered looking rocks floating through it. The sky itself seemed the source of light as their armour and faces and Okku's colours were tinted with blue.

Glancing over his shoulder Blake was pleased to see there was a portal behind them, though less pleased to realise they were likely on one of those great rocks and that there was only one path to take. He started to cautiously advance, worried about ambush and because the swirling sky gave a sensation of movement and the continued sensation of lightness made his boots feel less securely planted. Blake did not want to be swirled off this rock to float like the other rocks through the eternity of this plane.

"The Astral Realm," Blake said, confirming what the others suspected.

"I have dreamt of this place," murmured Okku, even his great voice a little hushed, "so barren and cold."

"Those sound unpleasant dreams, my friend," Blake sympathised, "with how warm and alive your barrow was."

Okku rumbled in agreement as Neeshka pointed. "Careful," she warned, "undead."

"Do you mean the ones in armour," asked Gann, looking up and to the side, "or the incredibly huge skeleton looming above us and in whose pelvis the others stand?"

"Perhaps both… if that is who I think," Blake said, glancing behind them and noting the two arms jutting from this side of the great ribcage. If the skeleton was symmetrical that seemed a final confirmation why that portal had brought them here.

"How reassuring," replied Gann sardonically.

There were half-a-dozen Death Knights ahead of them. Five were in identical armour but the one who stepped forward to block their path was wearing armour that was more ornate and had an antique style to it. Six fleshless faces looked towards them and six pairs of red glows shifted within those skulls' eye sockets. They all had their swords in their hands and being tireless undead seemed happy to have them there rather than having a swordbelt and scabbard for them.

"Hold," hissed the Death Knight in the more ornate armour, speaking without breath or lips or tongue to shape that breath. "Art thou the one my master awaits?"

"That would depend on who your master is waiting for," Blake replied, trying to get more information but distracted a little by the decoration of the Death Knight's shoulder guards. On each was a foot with talons and though he was sure those had belonged to something formidable they still looked like giant chicken feet to him.

"My lord hath commanded me to grant passage to an 'old friend'," said the Death Knight, unaware of Blake's musing. "He described this being as one with an appetite that could not be sated. He hath seen this person in his dreams, but was uncertain how he would appear when he arrived."

"I have been cursed to be a spirit-eater, linked to the insatiable hunger of the Wall of the Faithless," Blake nodded, "and this curse has had many hosts. That would fit the description of hunger and differing appearances."

"Yes… I thought I recognised thee. It has been ages," agreed the Death Knight, sending a chill down Blake's spine as he realised this Undead likely meant literal rather than merely figurative ages. Its service had spanned long enough it remembered and recognised Akachi. "Proceed then, and know that only a pale shadow of my master remains, wafting freely between dream and wake. Thou wild need to approach his head and speakest in his ear if thou wish a waking audience."

The Death Knight moved back out of their way, his subordinates also moving to form a defensive half-circle behind him. They might have recognised Blake through his curse and might be allowing them passage to speak to their master, but their trust was not without its limits and those were narrow. Blake spared them a glance as he started climbing up the inside of the huge skeleton's spine. Each vertebrae was like a boulder the size of a horse's chest and it was like entering a macabre temple as they climbed high enough the ribs were curving up over them like a roof. The great skull was tilted so it was looking down its own body and through those ribs.

"Myrkul," Blake said in greeting.

Blue flames flared up in the eye sockets and a slight glow appeared in the mouth behind the remaining teeth as the dead god awoke. Three projectiles of magic energy started chasing each other in a vertical orbit around the great skull and Blake felt a malicious interest begin to scrutinise him. He looked back into the flames that were serving Myrkul as eyes now and waited for the dead god to speak.

"Ah…what is this?" creaked Myrkul. "Are you a dream? A fantasy? A recollection spawned of my own dead mind?" Before Blake could answer Myrkul continued. "Yes, you are that, but you are more too. I know you _spirit-eater_. You are an irony that walks. Two fates bound together, both severed and incomplete." The focus of the flame eyes seemed to shift. "And this one," Myrkul mocked, "he is bound for my Wall. As the Coven said, _no_?"

"If the Wall remains there when death comes for me," Gann blustered, his Dreamer's Eye a little dazzled by the power and malevolence, "I shall crack it from within."

"Braver and stronger have tried, spawn of hags. Despite your _ego_ the universe does not bend to your whims," replied Myrkul, unimpressed, "and it is _I_ who set the rules long ago." Somehow the skeleton managed to chuckle. "But you still do not believe in gods or faith, even as you look upon my corpse." Gann glared as Myrkul injected a note of mock sorrow into his voice. "I suppose to believe in ones such as me, to you that is a death of a different sort… and no less painful than dying within my Wall of the Faithless." Losing interest in the amusement Gann provided Myrkul's attention shifted back to Blake. "Let him ponder what awaits him, spirit-eater, and tell me what has brought you to this boneyard of gods."

"The Red Wizard Nefris was advised to seek your advice, and later had her servants place me in Okku's barrow to be infected with the curse that was once your punishment upon Akachi the Betrayer."

"Ah, spirit-eater," hissed Myrkul. "Your ignorance of the _true_ nature of some things, as much as you have learned, amuses me."

"Then explain," Okku rumbled, not amused by that amusement and his claws flexing and digging into the bone.

"Quiet, little-god, lest I _take_ your strength to replenish my own," sneered Myrkul. "You have become far less fun now you no longer slumber in ignorance."

"Then this is all your whim and your design?" Blake asked, while Okku growled behind him.

"The pleasure may be mine but the plan is not. Your ally and your enemy are one and the same spirit-eater, and I am neither. But your quest is an unmatched amusement, better fare than any mummer's play, and like any good piece of theatre it glorifies its author who gave all the actors their parts to play."

"I wonder who that author could be," Blake replied, "since this all seems too complex for a god more known for his vindictiveness than his intelligence."

"Ah, spirit-eater, your transparent attempt to anger me is unworthy of either of us," chuckled Myrkul. "If you think I will guard my words less then you are doomed to disappointment. But then you _are_ doomed anyway. I made a place for Akachi in the Wall of the Faithless and when you became this curse's host your soul went to fill it. When this hunger finally consumes your body and mind then your soul will dissolve into the wall and you and your mockery will be no more."

Blake noted this and wondered if Myrkul would have given the details of that possible fate had he _not_ wanted to return mockery with mockery. It seemed likely he would though as the dead god needed no excuse to taunt a mortal. "So death was no release for the previous hosts," Blake commented and accused, "they were condemned to oblivion because of you and because of Akachi. You punished the Betrayer, which was your right, but for his crimes also punish the hosts this curse takes and the spirits this curse consumes."

"I _punish_ the Betrayer," Myrkul corrected him, a note of satisfaction entering his voice. "Do you think me merciful enough to let him die entirely and find rest? His thoughts, his memories, they were torn from his grasp one by one as the hunger of the Wall of the Faithless filled him and his mind slowly drained away. Then before he could reach his final peace I tore him free to forever seek what was taken from him. To suffer eternally as each of the masks he wears is devoured by his unending hunger and he loses them in turn."

"That would match your reputation for cruelty," replied Blake calmly, keeping his disgust mostly hidden. "But I do suspect there is more to this than just revenge."

"Oh, spirit-eater? Amuse me with your ideas," Myrkul taunted. "Amuse me with your Red Knight spawned ability to see plots where there are none just as you amuse me with your unwillingness to accept that I might, unlike you, trouble myself with taking a proper vengeance."

"Proper vengeance?" repeated Blake, raising his eyebrows so they vanished behind the brow of his helmet.

"You had the Luskan Torio executed in Neverwinter rather than have her brought to your keep to serve your whims as your slave," Myrkul began to list. "Slew the ranger Bishop and the wizard Sand swiftly and cleanly rather than letting them linger…"

Neeshka raised herself slightly onto her toes to bring her lips to Blake's helmet above his ear and whisper. "He's trying to divert you."

"True enough," Blake whispered back with a nod. Raising his voice again he addressed Myrkul. "I could have let them linger as you yet do Myrkul. And how _do_ you speak when you are dead and gone?"

"A God does not easily die," boasted Myrkul. "He lives in the fears of him, which linger on… in the _doubts_ that he is truly gone… and in the suffering of those whose lives he brought to grief." Seeing something in Blake's expression shift the dead god chuckled again. "Yes spirit-eater, even _your_ suffering sustains me. Every anguish that you sow you unknowingly dedicate to me. Every mortal who cowers or cringes at your name, they are also cringing at mine. With every such pain the embers of my soul burn a little brighter than before."

"And hence, by your own words, there _is_ more benefit to you than just the revenge. The curse feeds the suffering that keeps you alive, and while it endures it is fine insurance against your name being forgotten and, rather than haunting your own bones, your consciousness fading with people's fear of you."

"Ah, spirit-eater… what a sure wager you were," said Myrkul in delight. His plan had sustained him through these long centuries but until someone had recognised his cleverness there had been little amusement in it. "Of _all_ the masks you are the first to know what you truly are. Two faces bound together. One betrayed my faith and the other never worshipped me at all. Together you are my truest disciple." Despite the impossibility the skull seemed to smile. "The irony is deep and worth of a God's devising. I hope that when the emptiness finally consumes you the next host is as amusing."

"And I hope you find it amusing that knowing what I am only gives more reason to end this curse."

"I do indeed, spirit-eater, as it will deepen your despair at your inevitable failure," Myrkul began to say.

"We will _not_ fail," growled Okku.

"Oh, but you will," Myrkul mocked him, "whatever you think you know, whatever you do Akachi will live on to seek new hosts. His hunger was born of the Wall, born of emptiness. You cannot destroy that which is empty, and so the spirit-eater will live on. As will I."

"Then that is the flaw in your logic," replied Blake. "This curse is _not_ empty, not entirely, as in Dreamscapes I have seen remnants of Akachi's mind and memories."

"Oh? You have seen delusions, perhaps," Myrkul scoffed. "Nothing remains of the Betrayer's mind or self so the choices before you _both_ benefit me. Believe my words and turn back and the spirit-eater will persist to sustain me. Disbelieve me to go on and discover the truth of my words and you further glorify my name with that fresh assault on the City of Judgement. Either way I win."

"We shall see. Both whether I am deluded and whether I need to 'assault' the City of Judgement rather than take a less violent approach."

"You think the choice is yours?" Myrkul asked with another breathless chuckle. "That Kelemvor will speak to you rather than destroy you as an abomination? That you are not caught up in events beyond your control?" The dead god paused as his amusement overcame his voice. "Ah, spirit-eater, even I could not hope that you would bring so much amusement to this cold realm. Once you open that Gate your army will find you and if you do not lead them as they wish, as _Akachi_ would have wished, they will strike you down. But first you must _open_ the Gate. Do you have the key I wonder?"

"You know I do not, that the Sword of Gith and the shard within me were stolen so I was left bleeding and with just a dagger."

"She who holds it is near," Myrkul replied, the flames in his eye sockets seeming to unfocus as his attention shifted to memories rather than the mortals standing within his bare ribcage. "Many times she has visited me, sometimes threatening and sometimes begging for my aid." With another impossible smile Myrkul looked back down at Blake and the others. "Only two portals provide passage from this drifting cairn of mine. One brought you here and the other will lead you to the sanctum where the Blade and your 'ally' await. Go quickly, spirit-eater, if you would look upon her face. You will _not_ be her only visitor today."

"Araman," sighed Blake, realising his relief the door into the portal room was still open should have been mixed with concern. "He took advantage while we were dealing with that Golem."

"My hound is clever is he not? You opened the door as he hoped and now he follows your ally to her wretched den. You saw him in your dream of the Gate and saw him for the priest he once was, who served me at his brother's side and turned against me at his brother's whim. But in his brother's defeat he repented and I showed him mercy and set him his task."

"And I am sure he repented of his own free will," commented Blake sarcastically. "That you did not 'encourage' this in the slightest."

"Ah, spirit-eater, perhaps your delusions are not _utterly_ complete and some tiny part of Akachi does linger," Myrkul chuckled. "Or perhaps your insight comes from your study of the story. But you know me as Akachi once did. Yes, I ensured Araman would not betray me again. I set a geas upon him to bind him to his task and his soul still remains imprisoned and hostage until he succeeds."

"Very well," growled Blake. "I care little whether your servant or the Red Woman is victorious. The latter enmeshed me in her plan and the former has made it harder to escape this. Either may provide me answers as long as one of them lives, and either is as useful as the other."

"Your choice is stark, spirit-eater," Myrkul said, trying to mock Blake again before he left. "Surrender your soul and the souls of all who will come after you to the hunger, or find the Blade and open the Gate."

"I may open the Gate, but _you_ will not benefit from it," replied Blake, looking up at the great skull and feeling how the curse was writing within him. It felt as if Neeshka's warning and Gann's concern had both been correct and that this opened a possibility. "You have lingered and been sustained by this curse for too long so now I shall use it to grant you the rest that you deserve."

"It is _not_ your right or your power to dispense judgement spirit-eater," Myrkul hissed, disdain for the threat mixed with a betraying tinge of fear. "The hunger of the Wall holds no sway over Gods and such judgement is also our purview alone."

"You might be right," admitted Blake, concentrating and reaching down inside himself. "It could be the spirit of a God haunting his body cannot be granted the same service as undead or the spirits of those haunting your furnace. But let us test it and find out if Ao the Overgod shares your opinion."

Behind Blake the thing began to form and its tentacles slowly wave as it realised that it was going to be allowed to feed. Blake smiled slightly as he felt the desire for revenge join the eagerness to take the energy that anchored this spirit and prevented it being swept away to the afterlife. He had to fight that desire and force the curse to only take that anchoring energy rather than trying to devour the rest of the spirit. But that the curse was more eager to devour this spirit in particular was further evidence that it did possess some memories and feelings rather than being as empty as Myrkul claimed. Blake focused on the skull and the patterns of energy around it and began to feel the connections forming through which some of that energy could flow.

Myrkul gasped despite his lack of lungs as he also felt these connections being made. "A final irony… even in this."

Concentrating Blake checked the tentacles of the curse were firmly wrapped around the bonds between Myrkul and his corpse and then 'pulled'. Unlike other more natural tentacles those of the curse did not just grip they also drained and as the bonds stretched and broke and 'bled' they soaked up this energy. The flames in the sockets guttered and died, the glow behind the teeth faded, and the orbiting magic projectiles faded into nothing but an after-image. With a final triumphant writhe the tentacles curled back as the visible manifestation of the curse also withdrew back into Blake's body.

"And so another god of your 'civilised' lands lies dead and silent," Gann sneered with satisfaction at the skull.

"Oblivion or rest was too kind a punishment for this monster and his crimes," complained Okku, "but good riddance nonetheless. We should slay the rest of his followers and leave this place."

"Especially since they seek to slay us," Gann exclaimed, swinging his spear into guard position as he glanced back down Myrkul's spine.

The Death Knights had noticed the activity and the sudden dimming of the energies around their master and God. They had organised themselves with a chilling silence and begun moving up Myrkul's spine towards Blake and the others. Fortunately this was not an easy climb in full armour and despite how huge the dead god's skeleton was they still had to advance in single file. Blake was pleased that this prevented the undead from using their slight advantage in numbers, but less pleased that though Okku had managed to turn it would be hard to help him.

Okku was not as worried about this as Blake, he was quite happy to destroy each of those undead in turn as they came within his reach. If the little ones wished to help then they could but the bear-god scarcely felt that was needed. He lunged and caught the foremost Death Knight around the waist with his great teeth. Spirit muscles flexed in Okku's shoulders and neck as he started shaking the armoured figure. A glancing blow from its boot knocked the one that had been just behind it back slightly. Despite the squeal of metal from the Death Knight's armour it started twisting about in Okku's grip and trying to hack and stab at him. The undead felt no real pain and had no internal organs to be crushed or breath to be constrained.

It could not put much power into its blows but it was managing to cut Okku and the edges of these cuts were dimming slightly. Like the Death Knights they had fought on their way out from killing the Slumbering Coven this one had a sword that was sharp and had life draining properties. Okku saw no need to tolerate the annoyance of these minor wounds and relaxed the muscles of his jaw to release the Death Knight and fling it away down the spine. There was a distinct clang it landed on the one that had recovered from being knocked back and had been trying to find an opening to attack Okku.

Blake could see the tooth marks and how far Okku's jaws had crumpled in the thick breast and back plates as that Death Knight bounced off one way. It fell a good twelve feet to land across one of Myrkul's ribs, looking to have broken its back, before sliding off and falling a few feet more. The other one was even less fortunate as the ground had not mounded up to the same extent on the other side. There was twice the drop and it only glanced a rib on its way past to land on its skull. It was lying still so Blake looked back at the one with crumpled armour and saw that although its legs were not working it was dragging itself down the slope beneath Myrkul's ribs to try to circle back to the fight.

Meanwhile the removal of those two more normal Death Knights had brought Okku and the one in the more ornate armour face to face. The glow in that Death Knight's eye sockets flared a little as it struck and Okku roared in pain with a more serious wound to his shoulder. His form was still rapidly knitting back together but the power and speed of the blow had shown why this Death Knight was worthy of his fancier garb and the effects that he might also have a better sword to better use. Okku roared again as he attempted to smash his smaller foe under his claws and the Death Knight struck back and opened a cut on that foreleg. Blake hesitated over how he could help the bear-god.

"Bows?" Neeshka asked.

"Aye, and aim for the head," nodded Blake. "Shatter the skull and that should destroy them."

With fluid grace Neeshka sheathed her rapier and reached into her magically capacious bag. A quiver of arrows that looked too large for the bag came out and was hooked to her belt and then a shortbow that was definitely too long followed. Slender but strong arms flexed as Neeshka deftly strung the bow and then she set an arrow to this string and her shoulders and back also flexed as she drew and released. The arrow skittered off the helmet of one of the more normally armoured Death Knights and left a bright fresh scratch on it.

Gann watched this with interest, especially as Neeshka's chest rose and fell with the flexing and releasing. "I don't think I could drive my spear into this god-bone to free my hands, and I am unsure what gifts of the spirits might affect these."

"Aye," sighed Blake, "and if I drop my shield it will likely slide and I could lose it."

"I need little help, little-one," Okku rumbled, snarling as the ornately clad Death Knight evaded another paw sweep, "but some might speed this if you and the Hagspawn can stop talking and start acting."

Blake looked and muttered to himself. "No flesh to burn or freeze, or convulse and burn with electricity… acid might corrode the armour but… ah."

With a faint smile Blake clambered a little way back up towards the skull to get higher and a marginally better line of sight. He recited an incantation and drew some arcane power to himself. Even before meeting Qara he'd been inclined to prepare a variety of spells but seeing the sorceress frustrated when they fought something immune to fire had underlined the wisdom of this. The air shimmered in front of Blake and then that sphere flew away from him and into the second Death Knight of the line of three behind their leader so its armour rang with the pure sound of a _Cacophonic Burst_.

Against a living opponent much of that energy would have been spent itself in squeezing and stretching flesh. Rupturing blood vessels and bursting organs with the sudden changes of pressure and causing them to cough blood as the delicate structures of the lungs were torn. The Death Knight had none of these problems but what it did have was more serious. It had long been noted that old dead bones had lost something as they were more brittle and did not work as well as fresh ones when boiled for glue. Whatever it was the Death Knight felt the lack as the vibrations shattered and cracked its less elastic bones.

It staggered and fell, nearly landing on the one that was still crawling with determination, and bounced and clattered down the slope to near the portal from Thay. The two either side of it in the line were less affected by the spreading noise and though staggered managed to keep their feet. Even less affected was the one in the ornate armour, but even it was slowed for a moment as small bones broke beneath its armour.

"Thank you, little-one," Okku rumbled, seeing his chance.

The bear-god lunged and this time his huge paw made contact. Metal bent and tore and the Death Knight in the ornate armour flew back and to its right as the force of the blow lifted it off its feet. It bounced off one of the lower ribs where it curled up and then off the edge of the pelvis and down to the ground. Although it was still moving and still had hold of its sword Okku was pleased enough as he sprang further down the slope of Myrkul's spine.

Hurriedly the next Death Knight tried to bring its sword in line despite having been staggered and the surprise of the sudden absence of its leader. It managed to fend off Okku but even the small amount of the impact that was transmitted up its sword and arms was enough to make its boots slip slightly. The loss of the Death Knight behind it proved a small advantage for it as it had that gap to recover in rather than stepping back into that comrade. Okku prowled forward a little to press the attack while Neeshka managed to get a clear line and neatly put an arrow into the rearmost Death Knight's skull. Her second arrow was less fortunate but her third again entered the open face of that helmet.

As that was the same style as his own Blake wondered briefly if he would be better off with a more enclosed helmet even if, unlike undead, he did need to worry about how that could restrict his breathing and the flow of cooling air around his face. It could get very sweaty and stuffy inside a full-face helmet though and unless you had a prominent 'beak' on it an arrow might still penetrate.

"That spell of yours seemed to work," Gann commented, breaking into Blake's thoughts. "But these fellows seem determined on their revenge."

Blake nodded as he watched the Death Knight with the crushed armour slide down the slope the other had tumbled down. Its continued dragging of itself onwards seemed more a convenience in not having to go as far after it than a threat. The other two though could be more of a problem. Neither of them were moving right after being struck with a _Cacophonic Burst_ or a bear-god paw but they had regained their feet and were limping with dragging strides around towards Myrkul's pelvis and the route back up the spine.

"Determined, yes," Blake replied, "but I would match Okku's determination against them any day."

"And well you should little-one," growled Okku.

With that he brought both forepaws together in a bear-clap that nearly squashed the Death Knight's helmet and skull flat between them. Okku slid slightly as all his weight came onto his rear paws, but his spirit-sharp-claws and the sense of balance that had served him well during the battle on the ice also served him well here to give him grip and prevent him toppling. As the now almost headless Death Knight slumped off the spine and Okku thumped back down onto all fours Neeshka loosed another arrow past them. This struck home and as the cracks spread from this extra hole in its skull the rearmost Death Knight fell backwards and rolled and clattered down the spine, its helmet coming off as the skull broke apart within it.

Gann moved down and made a quick appeal to the spirits to aid Okku. As the few wounds the bear-god had suffered shimmered and closed Gann smiled. "Do you wish to continue taking so much of the battle, old father bear, or may we assist rather than simply being left in awe at what we have seen?"

"I would not want to deprive you of a chance to exercise the sharpness of your spear," Okku rumbled, "as well as the sharpness of your tongue."

Okku moved down to where the rock and soil had mounded up within the bowl of the pelvis and Gann followed him. Blake hesitated and then very carefully moved down past Neeshka. He did not want to fall off this spine and even less did he want to knock her off but there seemed reasons worth the risk.

"Good work with your bow, darling," Blake said as he passed her.

Neeshka rolled her eyes slightly at the comment. She knew her harbour-boy genuinely meant it but she also knew he hoped that praising her bow work would influence her to continue using it. To stay 'safe' up here on Myrkul's spine where he could now stay between her and the Death Knights. She unstrung her bow and slipped it, its bowstring, and the quiver of arrows back into her magic bag before sure-footedly moving down to join the line of Okku, Blake, and Gann. Ahead of them the Death Knight in the ornate armour paused where the earth mounded up into a ramp into the pelvis. Slowly the other one joined it with a scraping from one foot as it semi-hopped along.

"Thou shalt pay for what thou hast done," the Death Knight in ornate armour vowed.

That threat would have been more intimidating before they had destroyed half of them, crippled another, and seriously wounded the remaining two. But Blake was still concerned as these Death Knights were not the only servants of Myrkul they might have to face. There was still Araman and whatever forces he had taken with him in his pursuit of the Red Woman and they would be just as eager to avenge their God. The Death Knights shambled forward, moving more like Zombies, and both seemed intent to strike at Blake at least once before they were defeated.

Blake was confident that he could defeat them. He was unwounded and had the extra agility and speed of his spells while they could barely walk with the damage their brittle undead bones had suffered. But Blake had little to prove his friends and rather than being impressed by his strength and swooning over it Neeshka would be more likely to call him an idiot for taking macho risks. It seemed better to use their focus on him as a way to divert them into a mistake so he jumped forward as if he was eager for battle but, even as the one in the ornate armour started to swing his sword in, Blake was reversing direction. His knee gave a twinge at the sudden shift, but nothing serious as he angled his shield to take the edge of the ornate Death Knight's sword across the flat of it and on the metal ridge.

The other Death Knight brought his sword in and Blake twisted to avoid the two-handed thrust. He was not completely successful and, though the edge of the blade only barely scraped his breastplate, he felt a line of ice drawn across his chest where it drained him. The Death Knight had just enough time to realise it had not done more than brush Blake before Okku's teeth closed on its out-thrust left arm as the bear-god snapped to that side of him.

Satisfied with the grip he had Okku twisted back and up, tearing the Death Knight's left hand off the hilt of its sword and making the undead swing in Okku's grip. It was more this motion than any intent on the undead's part that brought its right hand and the sword still in it around and into Okku's flank. The edge of the blade slapped along the bear-god's side and didn't seem to do more than cut a few strands of spirit-fur. Before the Death Knight could bring its sword back to try to inflict a deeper wound Okku whipped his head around to continue the curve of the swing. Rather than up and away the left arm was now being brought back towards the Death Knight and down. With its injured leg and against the strength of a god-of-bears it could not resist and was twisted heels over head as if it was being thrown by some monk.

Ignoring the feeling in his chest Blake moved back onto the attack against the ornately armoured Death Knight. They both had approximately the same size sword and using it one handed did slow Blake a little despite his spells and his belt of strength. However not as much as the Death Knight had been slowed by having what looked like most of the ribs on one side smashed by a god of bears. Even if you were nothing but a skeleton in armour you did need some intact bones for others to brace against and allow the magic of undeath to move you.

Blake's sword clinked against the Death Knight's as he stabbed and the Death Knight parried and the blades glanced off each other. Neither of them wanted to smash their weapons together like actors so it was a rather undramatic noise. Blake pivoted and thrust forward with his shield to try to bash the ridge of it into the Death Knight and stagger it but didn't quite have the reach to connect. The Death Knight struck back and Blake's shield boomed as he absorbed the blow on it. Losing patience with this near stalemate Neeshka hopped up onto what seemed the sheer bank to Blake's left. Some dirt dribbled down but she gracefully kept her balance and started stabbing down with her Rapier at the Death Knight from her raised position. It jerked its helmet and upper body away and swept its sword to its right and up to try to strike back at Neeshka's vulnerable legs.

Okku released the Death Knight's arm and let it fall flat onto its back. A couple of quick steps brought Gann forward and his spear darted out to stab this undead in the neck and try to pop the vertebrae apart. Not satisfied with this attempt at precision Okku reared up and then slammed both paws down and onto the Death Knight's chest to crush its breastplate and drive it down a few inches into the dirt.

As the Death Knight with the ornate armour shifted position Blake struck at it. He was a little out of practice with fighting heavily armoured opponents but he had noticed that this one, unlike his more plainly armoured fellows, had no knee-guard. So there was a small gap between the plates around its thigh and the top of its boots. Blake was not sure if he would have noticed this if he hadn't been careful to avoid that vulnerability on both his armour and the suit he'd had made for Neeshka. But noticed it he had so he struck at the side of the Death Knight's knee. This was not as effective as he'd hoped as the chainmail over the joint was tough to cut through and there were no tendons to sever beneath it. The impact did make the Death Knight start to topple sideways though and this fall became more rapid and more complete when Neeshka kicked her boot heel down into the side of its helmet.

As that Death Knight toppled the other was still trying to move despite how its spine had been pulverised by Okku. The weight of its sword and armour resisted its attempt to bring its blade up and across its crushed torso to strike at them. Okku grumbled and slammed one paw down again and onto its helmet, almost flattening it and shattering the skull as he had the other's. With satisfaction Okku noted the success of this and the lack of movement and then padded off and around the corner towards the portal from Thay.

The combination of putting her weight on one foot and the impact of her other boot heel on the helmet had caused Neeshka to start to slide. She had to grab at the slope with her left hand and also drive the fork-tines on her shield into it a little to hold on and stop this. For a brief moment she was vulnerable, but not as vulnerable as the Death Knight in the ornate armour was as it had fallen onto its left knee and elbow and its right hand. Before it could push itself up to try to rise or shift position to free its sword hand and be able to swing from its crouch Blake had brought his sword down. This was not as tidy a blow as Blake would have preferred as the helmet had a metal plate protecting the back of the neck and his sword clipped the edge of this. Even so, and with this and the toughness of the chainmail preventing him from managing to decapitate, it he managed to cut far enough through to end that Death Knight's unlife.

There was a snarl and a crunch from just out of view of the three mortals that they realised was Okku finishing off the crawling Death Knight. The look of satisfaction on the bear-god's face as he padded back into sight would have been enough clue even without the other sounds. They looked at each other as the three mortals recovered their breath and the last few scratches on Okku faded.

"Did you really just eat a God?" Neeshka finally asked, giving Blake a strange look as the lack of fighting gave her the leisure to consider events.

"I am not sure," admitted Blake, scabbarding his sword and holding something out. "I attempted to send Myrkul into death and to rest, gaining this unpleasant looking essence…"

"Oh yuck," Neeshka interrupted, "it looks like it is constantly bleeding."

"But as much as it seems to have worked I have my doubts," continued Blake. "You recall the Wood Man?"

"That he said you could devour him a hundred times," Gann asked, "and he would persist as long as the forest endured?"

"Aye," Blake nodded, impressed that Gann had understood immediately. "If the energy of the Ashenwood could restore the Wood Man then I do wonder if Myrkul could reform the links between his spirit and his corpse."

"Maybe not," mused Gann, "but maybe so, and more chance if we do not destroy the curse and how it feeds the suffering associated with his name."

"In any case, I think Myrkul's essence is best, well…" Blake suddenly took a step to put his weight behind it and threw the essence off into the eternity of the Astral Realm. "Best far away from us."

"Was that wise?" asked Gann. "What if someone finds it?"

"I'd rather they found it instead of killing me to take it."

"A point," admitted Gann. "I am not sure how good a point, but a definite point."

"We have learned that some things are too dangerous to store," Okku rumbled sadly, thinking of the fate of his clan. "That they can corrupt things around them."

"Aye, my friend, and I don't think I could have safely destroyed that essence. But let us be about destroying what we can."

"First things first, harbour-boy," Neeshka chided him. She moved to the mostly decapitated Death Knight in ornate armour. "Blast," she said, picking up its sword and looking at it, "this one's magic has gone away."

"And not enough time to strip their armour either," warned Blake.

"Hah," Neeshka scoffed, "like there ever is, though we might have been able to get a full set from combining the undamaged bits."

Neeshka started gathering the swords and, with the lack of scabbards, wrapping them in their former owners' cloaks. The ornate Death Knight's helmet might have been clipped by Blake's sword but the scrollwork on it was pretty enough for it to meet Neeshka's standards as well. Blake smiled as he heard some happy humming from his beloved as she gathered with twitching tail.

"Even if this a temporary inconvenience for Myrkul," Gann commented, seeing Okku was less enraptured by the delay to make Neeshka happy, "this is at least a more epic deed, one with more splendour for old-father-bear and for the bards to sing of."

"I might tell Sheva Whitefeather," nodded Blake, turning away from the sight of his sweetheart at work, "but otherwise I think I would prefer it kept quiet. This is an implausible enough deed that talking of would make us sound like braggarts."

"You would have a god-of-bears to vouch for you," Okku rumbled, "and few make the mistake of doubting my word. More than once."

"There is also the concern of any remaining followers of Myrkul," continued Blake, "which was another reason to have disposed of the evidence of the essence."

"And your deeds _here_ are not the only thing you want to keep quiet," Gann added quietly.

"True," admitted Blake, lowering his voice to say to Gann, "and some already condemn and gossip about my relationship with Neeshka so the deal she struck becoming known would hurt _her_ with the extra fuel for this." Gann nodded and Blake raised his voice back towards a more normal level. "At least the dealing with Devils was part of my deeds in Thay, and so part of a larger thing I also want to keep quiet rather than publicly embarrass Neverwinter."

"Does that matter little-one?" Okku grumbled. "Embarrassment compared with the crimes they had committed?"

"I still intend to try to level that Academy," smiled Blake. "I would simply prefer to do so without having the Thayans harass Lord Nasher about it."

"Ah, yes," Gann commented, "I do recall you mentioning his willingness to sacrifice people for political advantage."

"That is, perhaps, making it sound too cynical," admitted Blake. "Remaining ruler of Neverwinter is very important to him but so is the good of the city. Conflict with Thay would be worse for Neverwinter than the loss of one minor noble to his service."

"'Minor Noble'," Neeshka scoffed as she returned. "I've told you harbour-boy, going to be a legend when the bards start singing about the King of Shadows. And believe me I know how much wealth and power some of the 'Senior Nobility' actually have. Or rather how little."

"A list of targets?" asked Gann, with a teasing smile. "Or just a fascination with the great and the good and the degree to which they fit that description?"

"Both," Neeshka winked. "And the ones that don't fit the description get to be on the list."

"Better press on and see who survives in that sanctum," Blake said, unimpressed with his own deeds despite Neeshka's comments.


End file.
